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UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 










Uncle Danny’s Neighbors 


By 

FRANCIS B. PEARSON 

Superintendent of Public Instruction for Ohio 


a Author of 

Reveries of a Schoolmaster, The Vitalized School 
The Reconstructed School, etc. 


m 


INDIANAPOLIS 

THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
PUBLISHERS 



Copyright 1919 
The Bobbs-Merrili. Company 



NOT 22 1919 


©CI.A536065 

KeaorcUd -/ 


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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I A Soliloquy 1 

II The Grade Teacher 12 

III The Mother 27 

IV The Boy 45 

V The College Professor 67 

VI Two Girls 87 

VII The High-School Teacher .... 108 

VIII The Preacher 127 

IX The College Student 146 

X The Round Table 167 

XI The Legislator 186 

XII The School Board Member . . . 202 

XIII The Rural Teacher 219 

XIV The Old Lady 239 

XV The Picnic 254 


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I 






















UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 





Uncle Danny’s Neighbors 

CHAPTER I 

A SOLILOQUY 

“Well, Nick, old doggie,” said Uncle Danny, 
“it seems that we are at the verge of things once 
more. The people have come back from their vaca- 
tion, and, after they have rested for a few days and 
become acclimated again, they will certainly invade 
us, either to see and be seen, to hear and be heard, 
or to talk and be talked to. You and I, Nick, know 
these neighbors of ours, and know they are certain 
to drop in on us on some errand or other. We are 
experienced in the ways of neighbors, you and I, but 
we shall see them from some new angles this year, 
without doubt. So we may as well be prepared and 
summon all our philosophy and experience to help 
buttress our position. You and I are not the ar- 
biters of our own fortune, whatever people may say 
to the contrary, for we know that our plans will be 
interrupted and modified by these neighbors all 
through the year, and we must give them a polite 
I 


2 


UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


hearing, even if we have to give our plans a vaca- 
tion. 

“Besides, we never know what we shall see when 
we turn the corner, and that is another negative to 
,the arbiter-of-fortune theory. And, it is better so. 
Life would lack spice if we could know, in advance, 
what the happenings will be. You and I don’t care 
to know, in advance, what we are to have for dinner. 
Anticipation is a real tonic, whether in eating or in 
talking. It is rare enjoyment to wait around for 
people to reveal themselves as they would unwrap 
a package for our inspection. And we know they 
will do so, if we but give them time, and the fun we 
derive from the process is worth the time we spend. 
Now, there’s Mrs. Sebring. You know that, when 
she comes in, we never know whether she’ll unpack 
an assortment of her ailments, or descant upon uni- 
versal suffrage or echo some one’s opinions of the 
nebular hypothesis. And it doesn’t matter which it 
is; it is all very like sheet-lightning that creates an 
immense flare but never strikes anything. She 
probably comes in because she is poor company for 
herself at home; which proves, Nick, that you and 
I are of some use in the world. We can help Mrs. 
Sebring to pass an hour or so in comfort when she 
can’t do it alone. 

“After all, Nick, perhaps we are doing as much 


A SOLILOQUY 


3 


good, by listening and talking to the people who 
come in to see us, as if we were following our own 
inclinations. In that case, it doesn’t matter much 
about the arbiter-of-fortune theory. Adding our 
pleasure and our profit, perhaps, in the long run, 
we are debtors and not creditors. It is said, you 
know, that knowledge comes from two sources, 
nature and society, but I am puzzled quite often, 
when our neighbors drop in, trying to determine 
whether they are nature or society. But, in either 
case, we do accumulate vast stores of knowledge 
from them, and some of it seems to be of some 
value. But we do drink in a great deal of water 
to get a little coffee, at times. So many of these 
folks seem to be the victims of internal confusion 
and it takes a long time to diagnose their cases 
and suggest the right remedies. 

“Why, I almost laughed in his face when Mr. 
Raleigh told us the other evening that he leads a 
dog’s life. And there you were, Nick, listening to 
every word of it. For your sake, I felt like resent- 
ing his implication, but I felt sorry for him and saw 
that you shared my feeling. He didn’t mean what 
he said at all. He meant that he leads an unhealthy 
human life, which is far less agreeable and profit- 
able than the life that such a dog as you leads, my 
dear Nick. He ought to go to school to you for a 


4 


UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


time and learn how to live. You could teach him 
a host of things that would be good for him and for 
those about him. If he had your philosophy of 
life, he wouldn’t be coming over here so often to 
complain of the tangle of life that he has made for 
himself and from which he would have us release 
him. 

“If he had your patience, your perseverance, 
your ability to distinguish between big things 
and little things, your fidelity, and your serenity, 
he wouldn’t fuss and flutter so much. Dog’s 
life, indeed! Why, Nick, old fellow, such a 
man as that ought to envy you and come to 
you to learn the cardinal virtues. But here 
he is, making a mess of life, and then complain- 
ing that he is leading a dog’s life. In all the time 
that we have been chums, you have never failed me 
once; and the chances are that he fails people every 
day. I know he fails himself or he would be less 
querulous. I feel sorry for a man who disappoints 
himself and then tries to saddle the blame upon 
some one else. He reminds me of my effort to mix 
alkali and acid : the result was a fizz. 

“Really, Nick, I think I have never mentioned 
the matter to you, but right here and now I want to 
make full acknowledgment to you for many valu- 
able lessons. You have taught me many things that 


A SOLILOQUY 


5 


can not be got from books. Eut for your help, I’d 
have gone astray many a time, especially in the mat- 
ter of appraising people. If I were a grocer I’d want 
you around to let me know which customers could 
be trusted to run accounts. And, were I a young 
woman I’d ask you to give all the suitors a critical 
inspection and make a report upon their eligibility. 
You seem to know an honest man, on sight, whereas 
I am often mistaken. You must really interview 
that young man who calls upon our neighbor, Mary. 
If you report adversely, we must hit upon some plan 
to circumvent him. If he falls below her high 
standards, we must warn him off the premises as a 
trespasser. I can find out about his family and his 
prospects, but I must rely upon you to report on the 
young man himself.” 

Uncle Danny relapsed into silence for a time and 
gazed into the wood fire that burned in the grate 
and threw fantastic pictures upon the walls. Nick 
knew the mood and kept discreetly quiet. Finally, 
Uncle Danny continued : “It does seem, Nick, as if 
we may yet come to rival Atlas in our efforts to 
carry the world upon our shoulders, if our responsi- 
bilities continue to multiply. And we seem to have 
no choice in the matter. We can’t shut the door in 
the faces of our neighbors, no matter how trivial 
their errands may seem to us. These errands seem 


6 


UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


vastly important to them and we must give them a 
respectful hearing. Take the case of our neighbor, 
Mary. We must look after her and see to it that 
her bark is kept free from rocks and shoals. She’s 
too fine to be permitted to drift. I wonder if you 
have ever considered the subject of dual personality, 
Nick? That subject disturbs me no little. You are 
always so sane, so right, so direct, and so sure of 
yourself that, I feel certain, your personality is 
single and not dual. In that you have a great ad- 
vantage over many of us dual-personality animals. 
We live a double-track life and jump from one track 
to the other with such agility that we seem to be 
playing hide-and-seek with ourselves. And that is 
disconcerting. That’s why we must keep a sharp 
lookout for our Mary. 

“1 think I have not mentioned Montaigne to you 
very often, Nick, which is not to my credit, for he 
is worthy of frequent mention. He is both incisive 
and comprehensive in his analyses. Now listen to 
this. ‘Men are tormented by the ideas they have 
concerning things and not by the things them- 
selves/ What do you think of that, Nick? That 
touches men off to a nicety, and, especially, some of 
our neighbors. They wallow about in a nebulous 
confusion of their ideas of things and fail to see the 
things as they really are. They have vague, hazy, 
crooked ideas of dogs but they never see you as you 


A SOLILOQUY 


7 


are. I am often tempted to introduce you to them, 
only they would not understand. If they could only 
understand — but, in that case, they would not be the 
sort of people they are. They think of you as only 
a dog, or merely a dog, but if they could be brought 
to understand what you really know about them, 
they might slough off some of their indifference to 
your presence in the scheme of things. If they could 
be brought to show proper respect to you they would 
have greater respect for themselves. 

“It would be no end of fun, Nick, to adjust the 
mirror, somehow, so that these people could see 
themselves as you and I see them. It would cer- 
tainly give some of them a jolt But they are so 
taken up with their ideas of you and me that it 
never occurs to them that you and I have our own 
notions of them. It would require a surgical opera- 
tion to cause them to see themselves as others see 
them. And, even if they could, they would probably 
consider it a mirage. I suspect we are in for a course 
in surgery. Did it ever occur to you, Nick, how 
many of our neighbors seem to be suffering from 
mental and spiritual vagabondage? If we could 
only help them to emerge from their confusion and 
see just a few things straight, it would be a fine bit 
of missionary work, on our part. Their thoughts 
roll, and tumble, and toss about like people on the 
deck of a ship in a storm, so that they can’t fix their 


8 


UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


attention upon anything long enough to know it as 
it really is. 

“There, Nick, I know you must be tired and 
sleepy, but I do hope you will bear with me yet a 
little longer, for I want that you and I shall come 
to a common understanding of these neighbors of 
ours that we may act in unison when they fall afoul 
of us as they are certain to do. My observation 
leads to the conclusion that there are only two 
classes of people in the world — those who know 
many things of which they do not talk, and those 
who talk a great deal about things of which they 
know little or nothing. Of the latter class there are 
quite a few who do much of their talking in this 
very room, as you very well know. They would 
scorn to come in here clad in second-hand clothing, 
and yet, they do not disdain second-hand ideas. On 
the contrary, they revel in them and try to pass this 
sort of coin off on us as if it were fresh from the 
mint. They recite from the morning sermon, or 
the morning paper, or some book and try to impress 
us with the notion that they have been making some 
original discoveries. 

“If these folks were subject to arrest for trying 
to pass counterfeit ideas as they would be for pass- 
ing counterfeit money we could have a host of them 
in jail. They drift in here invested in mental 


A SOLILOQUY 


9 


habiliments that would befit a harlequin and expect 
us to esteem them as paragons in the hierarchy of 
fashion and haberdashery. They seem to assume 
that we never hear sermons, or read books and 
papers, but that we are pre-historic in our thinking 
and in our practises. And we dare not laugh. It is 
really unfair to subject our politeness and our hos- 
pitality to such a severe strain. They may look upon 
us as cave-dwellers, or as members of the proletariat, 
and our ways may be inscrutable to them, but we 
must be polite and complaisant. 

“I tell you, Nick, these people are over-fed and 
pampered with their notions of themselves and are 
in dire need of treatment. So it behooves us to put 
on our armor, gird up our loins, put oil in our ves- 
sels, inflate our spiritual tires and be ready for them 
when they come. We must try to find some pabulum 
that will enlarge and nourish their souls for their 
souls are suffering from inanition. We have it laid 
upon us, Nick, to play the role of salvage artists. 
They are valiant in small and second-hand talk sim- 
ply because they have never been inoculated with the 
virus of big desires. Having only little desires, they 
magnify little things into mountains; but, if they 
can be brought to achieve big desires, their moun- 
tains will dwindle to mole-hills and they will be able 
to see life big and real. 


10 


UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“We must shake them up a bit and try to avert 
atrophy and obsolescence. We must explode some- 
thing underneath their abysmal sameness and dull- 
ness, and turn some search-light upon their Stygian 
darkness or they will become intolerable as neigh- 
bors. We must arouse them from the torpor of 
blighting self-complacency and stagnation and try 
to make them conscious that there are things above 
them that are well worth looking at. What we must 
do is to cause some of our tepid neighbors to boil, 
and seethe, and surge for the ultimate salvation of 
their souls. 

“You know, Nick, Montaigne says ‘The wisdom 
of my instruction consists in liberty and naked truth.’ 
So if we can set these folks free from the trammels 
of their in-growing souls and then give them a stiff 
dose of naked truth, now and then, we shall be doing 
them and this neighborhood a very distinct service. 
And it will be another adventure for us, too, or 
rather, another part of the great adventure which is 
life. Besides, it will have keen zest for us, whether 
or not it profits them. When they invade us we 
must manage, somehow, to pervade them, if pos- 
sible, and thus give them a mild foretaste of the peo- 
ple they are yet to become if our ministrations shall 
but prove effective. With facile diplomacy we must 
steal into their consciousness and, thus, into their 


A SOLILOQUY 


ii 

habits of thinking and living, and yet have them 
feel that we are there at their express invitation. 

“What we* must do, Nick, is to render their souls 
rhythmical, so that they may vibrate and pulsate in 
harmony with the big laws of life. Otherwise they 
will think and live counter to these big laws and so 
dwarf their own souls. We must play the role of 
dragomans, in a personally conducted tour, and 
show these neighbors around among the big ele- 
mental facts of life, that they may cease to frivol 
among little things. If we can only discover the 
magic talisman that will cause them to blossom and 
bear fruit we shall have done much. But, dear me, if 
we expect to execute this large program, we shall 
need some sleep. So, good night, Nick.” 


CHAPTER II 


THE GRADE TEACHER 

“You awful Uncle Danny,” exploded Mary Ben- 
ton, rushing into his study just after supper. “I 
came over to give you a good shaking, and you 
richly deserve one, too.” 

Mary’s impetuous entrance and menacing lan- 
guage excited Uncle Danny not at all ; and so with- 
out changing his position from his lounging attitude 
he drawled, “Well, my dear, when duty and inclina- 
tion run parallel like that the whole matter is greatly 
simplified.” 

“Now, don’t you try to divert my mind from 
my purpose,” she warned, shaking her finger at him, 
“and don’t try to crawl out of it through some knot- 
hole of philosophical and facetious persiflage.” 

“What an amazing vocabulary for such a small 
person,” he exclaimed. 

Perching herself on the arm of his Morris chair 
and running her fingers through his shock of gray 
hair, she said, “Never you mind about the vocabu- 
lary. Each word has a deep meaning if you could 
only understand it.” 


12 


THE GRADE TEACHER 


13 


“Help!” laughed Uncle Danny, throwing up his 
hands to ward off an imaginary blow. 

“Oh, you’ll need help,” said Mary, sitting bolt up- 
right and turning his head until she could bestow 
him a straight look of simulated severity, “for I’m 
going to shake you and shake you good.” 

Uncle Danny sighed in resignation. “Well, if I 
deserve shaking and must be shaken,” he said sol- 
emnly, “I don’t know of any one into whose hands 
I would prefer to commit the orgy, or ordeal, or 
rite, or ceremony, or — ” 

“Nightmare,” she interpolated. 

“Well, nightmare, if you will have it so. Here I 
sit in peaceful contemplation, feeling unusually 
urbane, benevolent, and virtuous,” he continued in 
mock tones of depression, “when like a whirlwind, 
in rushes a slip of a girl bedight in war-paint and 
feathers, and threatens me with physical violence. 
May I meekly inquire to what freak of fortune I am 
indebted for this precipitate and belligerent visita- 
tion?” 

“You certainly may,” she answered, slipping to 
the foot-stool at his feet and making herself quite 
comfortable against his knee. “Now, if you will 
deign to keep quiet I’ll try to elucidate.” 

He bowed his head ceremoniously and replied in 


14 


UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


a hollow voice, “I deign, oh, thou petite Nemesis; 
now do your worst.” 

Mary did her utmost to assume a fierce look. 
“Well, sir, you visited my school this afternoon.” 

“Was that a crime?” 

“It certainly was.” 

“Very well, then,” said he, “I sentence myself to 
prison thirty days on bread and water.” 

“The penalty is not adequate,” she replied, shak- 
ing her head 

“Your school is a public school, isn’t it?” 

“Not so public that it is open to every calloused 
sinner who chooses to slip in when the teacher’s 
back is turned.” 

“But, I’m a tax-payer,” he objected. 

“Not to any alarming extent,” flashed Mary. 

“Did you hear that, Nick?” asked Uncle Danny. 
“Are you going to lie there asleep and permit the 
head of the house to be bombarded by the most im- 
pertinent bit of baggage that ever disturbed the 
serenity of a peaceful home?” 

Nick thumped the floor half-heartedly with his 
stump of a tail, merely to indicate his consciousness 
of passing events, and then went back to his dreams, 
with only this feeble show of interest. 

“There! Even your best friend deserts you,” she 
laughed. “What about disturbing the serenity of 


THE GRADE TEACHER 


15 


a peaceful school? Why, you walked in there as 
airily as if you were responding to a hand-painted 
invitation.” 

“And yet you made over me as if I had been the 
Prodigal Son just getting in.” 

“Why, of course,” she replied. “In society and in 
school people must be polite no matter how they 
feel.” 

“A sort of refined hypocrisy, as it were ?” he sug- 
gested. 

“Certainly. ‘Assume a virtue though you have 
it not/ as your beloved Shakespeare has it.” 

“Mary, my child, just how have you accumulated 
all this worldly wisdom ?” 

“So you would steal my formula, would you?” 
she interrogated, with arched eyebrows. 

“If I did, it would be grand larceny. But whence 
so much wisdom in one so young?” 

Rising, she stood directly before him, riveting her 
gaze upon him. Presently she said, “Uncle Danny, 
I have often wondered about your early life. I now 
realize that you must at some time have been the 
custodian of Blarney Castle. You can't be explained 
otherwise. But as to my youth and wisdom I shall 
probably outgrow both if I continue to teach school.” 

“I hope not,” said he seriously. 

“Amen!” she responded as she proceeded to re- 


16 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


plenish the fire with two sticks of wood. As she 
leaned against the mantelpiece watching the blaze 
Uncle Danny bestowed upon her a benevolent smile. 
At length his voice broke the eloquent silence. 

“Well,” said he, “now that you have a rational 
moment, will you explain your effervescence when 
you burst in upon me?” 

“Why, I was seething. ” 

“Good!” he exclaimed heartily. “That’s a hope- 
ful symptom. I do admire a school-teacher who 
can seethe, now and then, whose spiritual nature is 
undulatory and not a dead level of primness, pre- 
cision, and placidity.” 

“Well, I ought to be in high favor with you, then,” , 
she said, smiling. 

“Not unless you can explain your furious out- 
burst.” 

“It doesn’t need explanation,” she retorted. “You 
came to my school on a rainy day.” 

“Oho! And is that all?” 

“All? All?” she cried, stamping her foot. “Surely 
that is quite enough.” 

“I infer,” said he, “that visitors to your school 
must be versed in the science of meteorology, and 
must consult the barometer, the thermometer and 
the weather prognostications in advance of the visit 
so as not to violate the proprieties.” 


THE GRADE TEACHER 


17 


“For once, kind sir, you are right.” 

“So visitors are not welcome,” he continued, 
“when rain is falling, nor on the day after the 
teacher has her hair washed, nor yet on the day 
when a retarded washer-woman fails to provide her 
with a clean shirt-waist? Why don’t you post a 
notice to the effect that visitors are welcome only 
when the sun is shining, when the wind is in the 
East, when the temperature is not below seventy, 
and when the teacher’s digestive organs are rightly 
performing their appointed functions?” 

“You blessed old impossible idiot,” she exclaimed. 

“Mary,” he asked deferentially, “just what has 
been your experience with idiots ?” 

“Why, Uncle Danny, I’ve known you for ever so 
long.” 

“Why, Nick,” cried he as if in anguish, “how can 
you lie there like that? Why don’t you get up and 
bite her, and then bite her again?” 

“Aha!” mocked Mary. “You call for help, do 
you ? Two against one isn’t fair.” 

“Well,” said he, “I may need to call out my re- 
serves but I haven’t struck my colors yet.” 

“Better defer your boasting till after my settle- 
ment with you for coming to my school on a rainy 
day.” 

“Shades of Jupiter Pluvius!” he agonized. “Isn’t 


18 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


a harmless citizen permitted to go in out of the 
rain?” 

“Harmless citizen, indeed!” she replied mock- 
ingly. “Just when I am trying to get my young- 
sters into some semblance of order ” 

“Order?” he interrupted. “Mary, what do you 
call order in a school?” 

Mary hesitated, knowing that Uncle Danny had 
asked a big question. Finally, she replied, “Well, I 
am not in sympathy with that notion of order that 
would have the same quiet in a school that prevails 
in a gallery of statues. Still, you know that on 
rainy days the children are restless and fidgety.” 

“Fidgety! Your grandmother’s shoe-strings! 
Of course, they are fidgety, just as children ought to 
be. If they are not fidgety, they need the doctor. 
Their squirming is a sign of good health. When I 
see a teacher who would have children sit absolutely 
quiet in those prison-like desks with their hands 
folded and their faces as demure as if they were 
reciting the golden text I get so ” 

“Careful, careful, Uncle Danny,” warned Mary. 
“Please don’t forget that there is a lady present and 
that you are a preacher.” 

Laughingly, Uncle Danny replied, “I beg your 
pardon, Mary, and thank you for reminding me. 
Being a member of the cloth certainly has its draw- 


THE GRADE TEACHER 


19 


backs. But, Mary, what do you do when you get 
to feeling like that?” 

“I explode.” 

“Just so,” said he. “But suppose the environ- 
ment is not favorable to explosions, then what ?” 

“Oh, in that case,” she responded, “I have re- 
course to my German. I simply use the word 
damit, somehow, and that relieves the tension and 
clears the atmosphere. Surely a church-member is 
permitted to say ‘therewith/ ” 

“Excellent!” said Uncle Danny, slapping his 
knee. “Mary, you have filled a long-felt want, and I 
thank you for your timely relief expedition. Your 
suggestion is a positive boon. It is said that Glad- 
stone, after hearing one of the Queen’s speeches, at 
the opening of Parliament, used to go out to the 
forest on his estate and chop a tree down to take the 
taste out of his mouth. But your plan is better in 
that it is capable of instantaneous application.” 

“Then, too, Uncle Danny,” said she, “there might 
be danger of your denuding the forests, if you fol- 
lowed the plan of Gladstone.” 

On the instant he made answer, “Not if all teach- 
ers were as natural, and human, and wholesome as 
Mary Benton.” 

“You thrice-blessed, uncanonized saint!” said 
Mary with a broad hint of moisture in her eyes and 


20 


UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


in her voice. “Here I’ve been fishing all this time 
for just one word of comfort and began to think 
you were too stingy, or else too truthful to give it 
to me. Then, like a flash, you overwhelm me with 
a veritable inundation. I feel as if I had drawn a 
prize, or been crowned Queen o’ the May, or some- 
thing. Why, Uncle Danny, I want to hug you.” 

“Mary,” he drawled in a level monotone, “there 
are some propensities of the heart that should never 
be repressed.” 

“Very well, then, my dear sir,” she replied with an 
air of feigned resignation, “profiting by your sage 
counsel, I shall refrain from repressing my inclina- 
tion to announce to you that I have doffed my mar- 
tial airs and habiliments and now appear in your 
august presence bearing a flag of truce and profess- 
ing myself athirst for copious draughts from the 
Pierian spring of your pedagogical wisdom.” 

“Hear! Hear!” cried Uncle Danny, springing 
to his feet, as if in great excitement. “Wake up, 
Nick, wake up! You are missing a mighty ava- 
lanche of language whose like you may never hear 
again.” Then, resuming his sitting posture, he went 
on. “Well, putting the matter thus, Mary, your 
Uncle Danny can not bring himself to give you a 
stone when you are asking for bread. Through all 
your luxuriant and succulent verbiage I can clearly 


THE GRADE TEACHER 


21 


perceive that you have the right attitude, and the 
habitual mental attitude of a teacher is ever more 
highly significant. You are willing, yes anxious, 
to learn, and that is the hall-mark of a good teacher. 
If you ever cease to be a learner, you will cease to 
be a teacher worth her salt. To be a learner you 
must live down on the ground where real things and 
real people are to be found. You can never teach 
school on horseback, nor from the forks of a tree, 
nor on stilts. I do hope you may never become 
oracular. I’d lose faith in you, too, if I should ever 
catch you ladling out platitudinous palaver to your 
children or trying to work some little pedagogical 
trick that you learned from a book. I hope you will 
always be our own real, individual, vital Mary Ben- 
ton in your school and not try to teach school as the 
proxy of some one else. You will read the books, 
of course, but I beg you to keep a firm grip on your 
sanity, while doing so. 

“And, above all things, Mary, keep right on doing 
as you were doing this afternoon. You were treat- 
ing the children as human beings, who have feelings 
and propensities, and not as specimens to be ex- 
perimented with or inanimate pawns to be moved 
about on some theoretical pedagogical chessboard. 
Again, I like the natural tone of voice you use in 
talking to the children. I can’t see why teachers 


22 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


can’t talk of numbers and geography as they would 
talk of birds, or flowers, if they were talking to 
children in their own homes. If ever you develop 
a screeching, high-pitched, rasping, teachery voice 
I shall have you arrested for disturbing the peace. 

“And, again, Mary, I do hope you may never 
degenerate into a mere school-teaching machine. 
The mechanical teacher is a sin against childhood, 
and should be expatriated, or eliminated in some 
way. Her voice is tin-panny, and she moves about 
as if she could be opened only with a time-lock and 
started going only by means of a crank or a lever. 

I never can make out whether she is super-human, 
sub-human, or merely un-human. I don’t see how 
the children can help throwing things at such a 
teacher. I like teachers who are real folks and not 
mechanicians or technicians.” 

“Halt!” cried Mary, assuming an attitude of 
alarm. “Why, Uncle Danny, you are liable to have 
a stroke if you go on like that. I didn’t know you 
could become so violent — Your Eliminations do not 
remind me of the cooing dove in the least. You 
should study repose of character.” 

“Repose fiddlesticks,” he exploded. “There can 
be no repose of any thing or sort where these time- 
lock teachers are concerned, who open with a creak 
at eight o’clock and shut with a bang at half past 


THE GRADE TEACHER 


2 3 

three; who talk like a phonograph, and act like 
the ” 

But Mary had her hand over his mouth and so 
never knew, what the next word might have been. 
Presently, she said gently, 4 ‘Now, Uncle Danny, be 
calm. They'll turn you out of church if this thing 
keeps on. And you know it would go hard with 
you, at your age, to repent and be converted all 
over again.” 

“Look here, young woman,” he retorted, “Pm old 
enough to be one of your ancestors, and yet you 
assume the prerogative of holding a brief for my 
moral conduct. Oh, effrontery, thy name is Mary 
Benton. Now, if you’ll subside and efface yourself 
for a bit, I’ll continue to give you spiritual and 
pedagogical nourishment.” 

“Yes,” replied she, laughing aloud, “and disfigure 
your immortal soul in the process.” 

“Now don’t waste any sympathy on my immortal 
soul,” he warned, “when I am trying to save your 
pedagogical soul.” 

“Oh, very well,” she replied. “If you feel that 
way about it, I wash my hands of all responsibility 
and let your immortal soul sink or swim, survive or 
perish. Now go right on and trundle your peda- 
gogical salvation wagon.” 

“Oh, excess baggage!” he mocked. “Thou Ver- 


^4 


UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


dant Freshman in the great school of life! Thy 
flippant words and mordant irony move me not. 
Complacent as the mountain peak that ” 

‘‘Rah! Rah! Rah! Who’s all right? Uncle 
Danny!” 

“Quite so,” he replied gently, “and that being the 
case, I proceed to say that my one big hope is that 
the work of teaching may never absorb the whole 
of Mary Benton. I want a big part of her left over 
for some other phases of life. Teaching is only a 
part of life, my child, not the whole of it. A lot 
of teachers mush and gush about their devotion to 
their work, but all that is a mere pose. If they were 
big enough to teach school and be virile human 
beings at the same time they would be too big to 
indulge in that sort of skim-milk talk. Of course, 
they ought to be devoted to their work while they 
are at it, just as your mother is devoted to pie- 
making when she is baking pies, and to music when 
she is playing the piano. Your mother ranks high 
up as a baker of pies, as I know from large and 
delightful experience, but she is far better and bigger 
than the best pie she ever baked. So I hope you will 
be an excellent teacher, but so much bigger than your 
work of teaching that you will be able to do a lot 
of other things equally well. I do hope you 
may never play the piano pedagogically, nor 


THE GRADE TEACHER 


25 


sing in the choir pedagogically, nor darn your 
stockings pedagogically. I want to see Mary Benton 
around here a part of the time and not the school- 
teacher all of the time. I want to see a host of 
things Mary Bentonized and not all of them teacher- 
ized.” 

'‘Verily, Sir Oracle,” said Mary, “that’s a large 
order.” 

“Very true, Miss Disciple,” replied he, “but we 
must have a large frame for a large picture. We 
don’t want a pygmy teacher if we are to have some- 
thing beyond a pygmy school.” 

“But, Uncle Danny,” she asked, “can I ever fill 
your big frame?” 

“Certainly, you can, Mary,” he responded, “and 
I’ll tell you how I know. You are alive, gloriously 
alive, and it is not easy to set limits to the teacher 
who is really alive and growing larger all the while. 
Then, too, you are an intelligent listener, and that 
betokens the right sort of docility. And, best of all, 
you have understanding and a delicious sense of 
humor. These noble qualities will help you fill the 
frame. People who have understanding are a great 
comfort. They can see more on the printed page 
than the author can possibly express. They can see 
in the painting what the artist yearns to express, 
but can not to his satisfaction. The author and the 


26 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


artist are crying aloud to people through their pro- 
ductions, but only the people who have understand- 
ing can hear and know what they are saying. The 
people who understand can read between the lines 
and see below the surface of things; and so can 
interpret life in the large. Yes, Mary, I have faith 
that you will be able to fill the frame.” 

“Uncle Danny,” said she with a tremor in her 
voice, “you are the blessedest friend that a girl ever 
had, and, for your sake, I’ll try my best to fill the 
frame and try to become the sort of teacher you 
would like me to be. Only in that way shall I be 
able to show my gratitude to you.” 

She stood for a moment resting her hand upon 
his head and then with a fervent “Good night, 
Uncle Danny,” she was gone. 

Leaning his arm on the mantel and gazing intently 
into the embers, Uncle Danny finally said, “Well, 
Nick, if all our neighbors were such as Mary, we’d 
have small cause for worry. There’s a fine girl, 
Nick, a fine girl,” 


CHAPTER III 


THE MOTHER 

Just when Mrs. Elysabethe Marietta Smythe 
stepped inside the door of Uncle Danny’s study, a 
few evenings after Mary Benton’s visit, Nick gave 
expression to a low, deep, prolonged growl, as if 
some sinister and malevolent influence had invaded 
his consciousness and disturbed his habitual serenity. 
Uncle Danny became keenly alert at once, being fully 
aware of Nick’s infallibility in the way of judging 
people and sensing pivotal situations, and knowing, 
therefore, that his growl was ominous and boded no 
agreeable interview. Although somewhat over- 
awed by Mrs. Smythe’s tumultuous presence, Uncle 
Danny kept a close grip on himself and gave her 
an impression of imperturbability closely akin to 
stoicism. However, being quite an adept in carrying 
off situations somewhat nonchalantly, she treated 
Uncle Danny’s rigidity with something of disdain, 
as if, indeed, it had been anticipated, and did not at 
all connect it with the growl of Nick, whom she 
quite ignored as altogether negligible and outside the 
pale of her interests. The subtle understanding 
27 


28 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


between Uncle Danny and Nick would naturally 
elude her, for she lived her life in broad sweeping 
strokes, nor was her perspicacity equal to the finer, 
the subtler, and the more delicate things of life. 

It is ever true that a fatuous belief in themselves 
often deludes people and renders them impervious 
to the finer sensibilities. This will explain how it 
was that Mrs. Smythe took the chair to which Uncle 
Danny, with courtly grace, escorted her as if she 
were a queen taking her rightful place upon the 
throne and began at once cooing forth inane plati- 
tudes in a voice that was oleaginous, with a diction 
that abounded in slang, and in language whose 
substantives and verbs were in such obvious dis- 
agreement as to dim the splendor of her sartorial 
upholstery. After a deal of inconsequential and un- 
grammatical chatter by which she evidently hoped to 
impress her auditor, she finally launched into the 
subject that was responsible for the call. “Uncle 
Danny,” she said, “for I hope you will let me call 
you by the name that is on every tongue in this 
town, I’m here to ask your help in a matter that is 
to be just between you and I. Everybody tells me 
you are so sympathetic, so sensible, and so kind that 
I just felt it in my bones that I could come to you 
and talk to you right down on the ground.” 

At this juncture Nick repeated the ominous growl 


THE MOTHER 


29 


that had put Uncle Danny on his guard and moved 
uneasily on the rug in front of the fire. Whether 
the cells of his brain were disturbed by Mrs. 
Smythe’s defection from the accepted forms of 
speech to which he was accustomed or whether he 
knew that her opening remarks presaged momentous 
happenings, even Uncle Danny could not determine. 
But both Nick and Uncle Danny were conscious that 
some sinister influence had pervaded the room as an 
emanation that quickened their anticipatory facul- 
ties. Mrs. Smythe, however, was blissfully oblivious 
to any such influence and pursued the even tenor of 
her ways. 

“You see, Uncle Danny,” she continued, “I am 
so sensitive and so sympathetic myself, that I come 
to you as to a kindred spirit. I know you’ll under- 
stand me for everybody tells me you are such an 
understanding man.” 

“Oh, yes,” he replied, “there are things that I can 
understand without the aid of a map.” 

“To be sure you can, you dear man,” she purred, 
“and that’s why I have come right straight to you. 
Well, you see, to get right down to brass tacks, or 
tracks, whichever it is, over in the high school they 
have put in something that they call domestic science 
and they say my daughter, Guinevere De Armond, 
has just got to take it. I’m so busy with all my 


30 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


social duties that at first I didn’t pay any attention 
to the thing and just let it slide. But just to-day I 
got wise to what this domestic science stuff really is 
and I’m now on the warpath. Why, believe me, it 
is just plain cooking and dish-washing, and any one 
who thinks that I’ll let a daughter of mine degrade 
herself by messin’ around with pots and t pans has 
another guess coming.” 

“Horrible.” 

“Ain’t it the truth? I knowed you’d understand 
my feelings. The very idea of Guinevere spoiling 
her hands in dish-water when I’m trying to get her 
ready to play at the musicale that our club is to put 
on in the holidays, why, it’s just awful! Besides, 
it is so common, this being a kitchen-mechanic — 
positively low and vulgar. I didn’t raise my girl to 
be a servant. Why, Uncle Danny, Guinevere De 
Armond Smythe has Mayflower blood in her veins, 
or arteries, or wherever the blood is. I suppose 
they’d have her scrubbing the front porch as a post- 
graduate course, if I’d let ’em have their way, but I 
just won’t and that’s all there is to it. I’m going 
to raise my daughter as a lady if I have to walk all 
over every member of that school board and every 
teacher in the whole outfit. I’m going to have cul- 
ture for my child, I’m here to tell you.” 

“Bravo! Great is culture!” cried Uncle Danny. 


THE MOTHER 


3i 


“Ain’t it?” she said, as she smoothed out and 
readjusted some of her garnishings of ribbons and 
laces. “Why, Uncle Danny, if some of us choice 
spirits didn’t keep up the tone of this community, it 
would soon go to the bow-wows. And, I’m so glad 
to find that you are in such complete sympathy with 
my high ideals. You are a real comfort, and I 
could almost wish you was a woman.” 

“Heaven forfend!” 

“Oh, you funny man! You ought to be in the 
movies. Why, last night me and Guinevere went to 

see Charlie Chaplin and ” But just then Nick 

set up such a dismal howl as dogs indulge in when 
a bell rings, and Uncle Danny was spared further 
details. 

“What in the wide world can be the matter with 
that awful dog? Is he having bad dreams?” asked 
Mrs. Smythe, evidently disconcerted. 

“I dare say.” 

“Well, I do hope he’ll not have any more like 
that.” 

“Yes, I, too, hope there may be no occasion for a 
repetition.” 

“Let’s see, where was I?” she resumed. “Oh, yes, 
I was speaking of culture. Why, Uncle Danny, 
Guinevere’s a regular glutton for good books. She 
knows Mrs. Wiggs almost by heart. When I was 


3 2 


UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


a girl I got a lot of the works of Augusta Evans and 
Laura Jean Libbey and Guinevere simply devours 
them. She does so appreciate good literature ! 
Why, just the other night I went into her room, and 
there the dear child was sobbing as if her heart 
would break, and I found that she had come to 
that place in the story where the young man is tell- 
ing the girl that if she won’t be his’n he ” 

“Here, Nick, wake up! I’m afraid you are about 
to have another bad dream.” 

“Why, Uncle Danny, how can you tell ?” 

“Oh, I’m so conversant with his idiosyncrasies 
that I seem to have a sort of prophetic prescience 
where he is concerned.” 

“Ain’t that awful — I mean lovely?” 

“Well, it has its uses.” 

“Now, Uncle Danny, I wish you’d tell me how I’m 
to put a stop to this cooking and dish-washing non- 
sense, and get them to give Guinevere the things 
that will give her culture. I want her to have accom- 
plishments and not be a mere house drudge. Sup- 
pose the young men of our set should find out that 
she is a domestic sciencer ” 

“Wouldn’t that be awful!” 

“Now, wouldn’t it! I turn cold and goose-fleshy 
whenever I think of it. Why, if one of them young 
men should ask me how she is getting on with her 


THE MOTHER 


33 


cooking, Td be modified to death. You see, she is so 
refined that ” 

“Family trait?” 

“Exactly,” she replied with fervor. “I have a 
reputation for refinement in this town that I'm 
proud of, and I expect my daughter to boost the 
family name. That’s why I took her abroad with 
ine last summer. I thought it would give her some 
more culture, so she could give pointers to some of 
the boobs in this burg. And it would of done you 
good to see how interested she was in them big 
stores in Paris. I could hardly drag her away she 
got so interested in the pretty things. Things that 
are beautiful is. her long suit. She certainly has an 
artistic temperature. And the theaters and picture- 
shows, why, it was downright astonishing the way 
she appreciated everything. One day there in Paris 
we got on one of them merry-go-rounds and had 
more fun than a box of monkeys.” 

“Did you visit the art galleries much ?” 

“Well, I should say not ! Catch us poking around 
among dead things when there was so much to see 
that was exciting. We did go to see that Venus 
stature one day, but when I seen that she was stark 
naked you bet I hiked by in a jiffy and Guinevere 
never seen the thing at all. I think it scandalous 
to have a woman like that so exposed.” 


34 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“And* what is your favorite among the places you 
visited in Europe?” 

“Oh, Wiesbaden beats ’em all to a standstill. The 
music and dancing there was just divine, and Guine- 
vere did so enjoy it all. We was both right in the 
swim. The young fellows just swarmed around us 
all the time.” 

“How did you like the Cathedral at Cologne?” 

“Let’s see; Cologne, Cologne? Oh, yes, that’s 
the place where we got lunch at the automat — put 
your money in a slot and get things to eat and drink. 
It was too funny for anything.” 

“And you visited Rome?” 

“Bet your boots we did; and Rome is a peach of 
a place to buy gloves.” 

“Did you see the Sistine Ceiling?” 

“No, indeed. Guinevere don't care a button for 
architecture and I’m not so keen about it myself 
that you can notice it.” 

“Did you get down to Pompeii?” 

“Well, I should say we did ; and of all the stupid 
places, that takes the biscuit. All I could see in that 
poky place was them pesky lizards ; ugh !” 

“You came out from Naples, didn’t you?” 

“Oh, yes, Naples. So it was.” 

Uncle Danny was silent for a time and then, 
as if trying to get his bearings, he went on : “Mrs. 


THE MOTHER 


35 


Smythe, I have often wondered what were the influ- 
ences at Naples that caused you- to change your name 
from ‘Smith’ to ‘Smythe.’ Did the climate, the 
sea, the blue of the sky, and the languorous life get 
into your blood and make you sentimental? Did 
the Bay, and Vesuvius, and Capri, and the seductive 
music, and the gaily-dressed dancers in the streets 
make you feel that the name ‘Smith’ did not com- 
port with your importance as a part of the glory of 
the place? Or what was it ?” 

“Uncle Danny, you’re not laughing at me, are 
you?” 

“By no manner of means. I feel far nearer to 
tears than to laughter.” 

“Well, of all the absurd things ! But why ?” 

“Well, I’ll tell you, since you ask. You were mar- 
ried to a good man by the name of Smith, who 
idolizes you and indulges every whim that floats 
into your whimsical head. Last summer he sent you 
to Europe, ostensibly to win culture for your daugh- 
ter, but, in reality, because you thought of a trip 
abroad as a step upward on the social ladder. You 
are ambitious to surpass your neighbors, and the 
trip to Europe was but a means to this end. Then, 
in Naples, when you were quite fed up on the notion 
of your superiority, you cast aside the name of the 
man who supports you in idleness and pampers you, 


36 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


and fastened upon him, upon your daughter, and 
upon yourself a name that does not belong to you 
and to which you have not the slightest right. You 
thought and think it has a more aristocratic sound, 
and for that reason you appropriated it without any 
semblance of justification. Your husband’s parents 
are both living, but you have repudiated their name 
and made their son, your husband, do the same. I 
dare not think of the bitter tears his good mother 
has shed over this unfilial act.” 

“Why, Uncle Danny, what does all this mean? 
You preach at me as if I had committed a crime. 
Are you trying to read me a lecture?” 

“Bless you, no. I’m merely trying to give your 
soul a massage.” 

“Trying to what?” 

“Give your soul a massage, and it is in dire need 
of heroic treatment. The case has gone on so long 
that I can’t hold out much hope to you, but I may 
be able to help your daughter.” 

“Help Guinevere? What help does she need?” 

“The answer to that question,” replied Uncle 
Danny, “would fill a book. She needs about every- 
thing except the things you are giving her.” 

“Why, Uncle Danny, you’re seeing spooks.” 

“Singular number, feminine gender, please.” 


THE MOTHER 


3 / 


“Look here! I don’t know what you are talking 
about.” 

“Certainly not, but no matter. As I was about 
to say, you came to me to enlist my interest and 
cooperation in your desire to thwart the efforts of 
the school authorities to do for your daughter what 
her own mother has failed to do for her. They are 
trying to make a real lady of her, but her mother is 
striving to snatch her away from them so as to make 
a prig and a snob of her. It may seem a blunt and 
brutal thing to say, but you are trying to cheat the 
Lord and this town out of a fine girl and make a 
ninny of her.” 

“Look here, my dear sir, you are talking about 
my daughter.” 

“On the contrary,” he replied, “I am speaking, 
just now, of your daughter’s mother and find the 
theme quite ample for my vocabulary. You ought 
to write fiction for you are doing your utmost to 
transform a genuine girl into a work of fiction. 
Think of the name with which you have burdened 
her. Only a girl a little, if any, lower than the 
angels could possibly live up to a name like that. 
You’d expect a girl with that name to paint and 
powder her face. You are striving to have the 
daughter glorify the mother, and seem willing to 


38 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


sacrifice the best interests of that daughter to accom- 
plish your purpose. You think of her debt to you, 
but never of your debt to her.” 

“A mother in debt to her daughter ?” 

“Indeed, yes, deeply in debt ; and unless you begin 
paying that debt in the coin of the realm very soon, 
you’ll pay it in scalding tears, later on, with accrued 
interest compounded. You owed her a sensible 
name, but repudiated that debt at the very outset. 
You owe her a home atmosphere that is pure, invig- 
orating, and sincere. Instead of that she lives in the 
atmosphere of a hothouse. You owed her a home 
and gave her a house, instead. She has no home, but 
lives in a show-house and herself is made a part 
of the show. You want her to be bright, quick, 
pretty, chic, pert, flirtatious — everything but sensi- 
ble. As soon as any one suggests a sensible thing, 
you balk.” 

She sprung to her feet at this, and made it evident 
that Uncle Danny had touched the quick. She was 
aroused ; her teeth and claws were becoming visible ; 
there were things rushing into her horizon that 
made her forget her expensive clothing, her aplomb, 
and her regnancy. At last, she was on the defensive ; 
she was in the presence of a masterful man; she 
was looking stark truth straight in the eye, and it 
made her wince. But, even with her back to the 


THE MOTHER 


39 


wall, her self-assurance and her bravado did not 
wholly leave her, and she demanded to know what 
warrant he had for saying a thing like that. Such 
a tense situation always steadies Uncle Danny, and 
so, being at his best, he continued in even mellow 
tones while Mrs. Smythe towered above him : “You 
disdain the noble art of cooking and seem to think 
your daughter would decline from her high estate 
if she should bake a beautiful brown loaf. You 
seem to think that the young men who haunt your 
drawing-room would vanish should they discover 
in Guinevere the author of that loaf. If that is 
true, then you should show those young chaps the 
door without ceremony, for they would, thereby, 
prove themselves parasites and not men at all. They 
would be unworthy of your daughter and of such 
a home as she ought to have. You talk of culture 
and refinement, not realizing, apparently, that home- 
making, including culinary skill, is a noble and 
gracious accomplishment.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, you wouldn’t have my daugh- 
ter become a common cook ?” 

“There you go again, using that word 'common.’ 
If your daughter becomes what she is capable of 
becoming: if she is genuine through and through, 
then no work that she ever does will be common. 
She will grace and ennoble the kitchen and redeem 


40 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


cooking from the rank of the common and elevate 
it to the plane of a fine art.” 

“Uncle Danny,” said she, her face relaxing into 
an incipient smile, “almost thou persuadest me to 
be a cook.” 

“Good!” he exclaimed. “There’s hope for you 
yet, and I’m glad. The trouble with you has been 
that a well-dressed and prosperous-looking young 
man always suggests rice and slippers to you, with 
Guinevere wearing a bridal ‘veil. But your plans for 
her never advance beyond the ring ceremony. You 
can’t visualize the months and years that are to 
follow that ceremony. You plan to have her catch 
a man, but never consider what she is to do with or 
for him after she catches him.” 

“But,” asked she, resuming her chair, “has a 
mother no rights in the bringing up of her own 
child?” 

“Oh, rights!” Uncle Danny retorted with some 
show of warmth. “People are thinking so much of 
their rights that they seem to forget about their 
privileges. Certainly, you have rights. So has 
Guinevere. She has a right to smoke cigarettes, use 
coarse and ungrammatical language, and make her- 
self generally cheap in the estimation of people who 
are really sensible. You have a right to encourage 
her in all these things — to paint, and powder, and 


THE MOTHER 


4i 


pose, and be superficial generally. But it is your 
high privilege to train your daughter in all those 
qualities that will make of her a sweet, amiable, cul- 
tured, intelligent young lady, a fit associate for 
kings and queens. Up to now, however, your train- 
ing has been such as will make of her a cross between 
£ flirt and a hoyden. And you seem to think all this 
makes for aristocracy and distinction. Let’s see, 
your father was a butcher, wasn’t he?” 

“Well, yes, he was, but ” 

“No ‘but’ about it. He was a butcher, and you 
never need to apologize either for your father or 
his business. The world needs butchers, and when 
we come upon such an honest butcher as John Mc- 
Ginness we ought to be proud of him. And yet, you 
have been rather ashamed of your origin and have 
been trying to persuade your daughter that she is 
of finer clay than her maternal grandfather. Well, 
she isn’t, and I do hope that John McGinness may 
never have occasion to hang his head either because 
of his daughter or his granddaughter.” 

“You are positively brutal, sir 1” 

“There now, be calm. Surgery never resembles 
a Sunday-school picnic, but it does often save life. 
However, the operation is about over now, whether 
the patient recovers or not. In concluding this 
brutality, let me express the hope that you may yet 


42 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


come to have as much concern for the inside of 
Guinevere’s head as you have for the outside. If 
you will seriously consider the aristocracy of sense 
and character instead of the imaginary aristocracy 
of clothes and cosmetics, in twenty years from now 
that fine daughter of yours will rise up and call you 
blessed. But, if you continue to dress her to look 
like a Christmas tree, she will never attract a young 
man who is sensible enough to be the father of your 
grandchildren.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, we never mention such sub- 
jects as that in our home.” 

“No, of course you don’t. There’s the pity of it. 
You never distinguish between a male and a man. 
And only a prude declines to meet such issues face 
to face. It is high time you were devoting some 
thought to your grandchildren. If they do not come 
up to standard you will want to hold Providence 
responsible and acquit yourself of all blame. Upon 
the right training of your daughter depends the sort 
of grandchildren you will have ; for, if you train her 
right, you need not be over-anxious as to the sort of 
son-in-law she will annex to the family group. And 
here endeth the lesson.” 

Taking a long, deep breath, Mrs. Smythe re- 
marked, “Well, anyhow, Uncle Danny, I now know 
what a steam-roller is. 


THE MOTHER 


43 


“Yes? Weli, it is very often a means of grace. 
By the way, do you happen to know Mary 
Benton ?” 

“You mean the school-teacher ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, yes, I know her by sight.” 

“You ought to learn her by heart.” 

“Is she as good as all that ? She must be another 
means of grace.” 

“She certainly is,” was Uncle Danny’s reply; 
“only she’s far more pleasant to take than the 
steam-roller.” 

“That’s a comfort, and, in that case, I think I’d 
prefer the Mary Benton treatment. And, by the 
way, I almost forgot to mention that I’ll have 
Guinevere take domestic science.” 

“To be sure,” said he, “there was something said 
about domestic science. Well, that’s still another 
means of grace.” 

“You have quite a collection.” 

“Yes,” said he, smiling benevolently, “in assorted 
sizes and varying degrees of temperature and horse- 
power.” 

As Mrs. Smythe approached the door in taking 
her departure she turned to sav, “And, Uncle Danny, 
should you ever be called upon for a testimonial 
about your skill as the chauffeur of a steam-roller, 


44 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


please feel free to give me as a reference. Good 
night.” 

“I certainly shall, and thank you very much. Good 
night.” 

Scarcely had the door closed when Nick was 
transformed into a veritable whirlwind. He barked 
and frisked, and cavorted about in a paroxysm of 
freedom and joy. When he had finally subsided 
somewhat Uncle Danny said, “So you feel that way 
about it, too, do you, Nick? Well, that’s just what 
I would expect of you. You stood the ordeal well, 
old chap, and your self-mastery helped me through. 
’Tis no easy task, Nick, to transmute a counterfeit 
woman into a real one — but we’ve made a start, 
Nick. Let’s hope and hope hard. We have vac- 
cinated her with the virus of old-fashioned, every- 
day common sense, if it only takes — if it only takes.” 


CHAPTER IV 


THE BOY 

It was one of Uncle Danny’s many pleasures in 
life to climb to the top of Sugar Loaf in pleasant 
weather and regale himself with the charms of that 
regal and picturesque eminence. Sugar Loaf is a 
hill, or a mountain, at your pleasure, that lies at 
the outskirts of the village and causes the sunrise 
to be delayed, somewhat, for the villagers. From 
the vantage-point of its summit one gains a view of 
an undulating landscape that delights the eye and 
the soul with its hills and dales, its fruitful fields 
and orchards, its flocks and herds, and the cozy 
homes that nestle among the trees. Thither Uncle 
Danny went to bask in the sunshine, to drink in the 
pure air, and become oriented, in spirit, in the great 
oasis of silence. Here with the velvet sky above 
him and space stretching for miles around and 
below him he gained perspective and his inner eye 
saw things as they are. Removed from the moil 
and toil of civilization, he communed with elemental 
things, earth and sky, and air. Here Nature, in her 
balmiest and gentlest mood, kept his soul washed 
45 


46 UNCLE DANNY'S NEIGHBORS 


clean, and here his thoughts could make excursions 
into the realms of the infinite without interruption. 

Of course, Nick always accompanied him wher- 
ever he went in his quests for mental and spiritual 
rehabilitation, for they were inseparables, and each 
felt lost without the other. As Uncle Danny sat on 
the wooden bench on the apex of Sugar Loaf, Nick 
would lie at his feet or else make some independent 
investigations among the things of nature round 
about. Often, too, Robert Hilton became the third 
member of the party, especially on Saturdays or 
other holidays. Robert was twelve, and lived only 
a few doors removed from Uncle Danny. Or, 
rather, his home was only a few doors distant. At 
this home he took many of his meals and did his 
sleeping, for the most part, but, truth to tell, he did 
Jiis living, in large measure, with Uncle Danny. No 
two boys and no two men could be more congenial, 
and yet they retained their identity as man and 
boy. Whenever the three of them assembled at 
some secluded rendezvous, Uncle Danny said they 
were holding an executive session. This expression 
puzzled Robert somewhat, at first, but after Uncle 
Danny's explanation he entered into the spirit of 
the enterprise with boyish zest and, thereafter, often 
importuned Uncle Danny for another executive 
session. That was the way with Uncle Danny in 


THE BOY 


47 


his dealings with Robert; he would use a word or 
an expression just far enough beyond or above the 
boy to excite his curiosity, but not far enough beyond 
him to divorce his interest. In this way the boy 
was ever striving to attain to the man’s concept of 
words and thus to enter into the man’s ways of 
thinking. These facile reactions on the part of 
Robert were a delight to Uncle Danny and gave 
piquancy to their executive sessions. The relation 
that subsisted between these two cronies is convinc- 
ing proof that two people, even with their disparity 
of age, may have a complete understanding and a 
free-masonry that puts each one at his ease in the 
presence of the other. 

They talked together as man to man, as friend 
to friend. Or they were silent together, as the mood 
encompassed them, and both understood. Uncle 
Danny never patronized Robert, and Robert had 
no fear of Uncle Danny. There was a complete 
absence of constraint on the part of both in each 
other’s society. Robert might not ascend to Uncle 
Danny’s plane of thinking, at all times, but Uncle 
Danny could always come to Robert’s. One bright 
morning, in early October, when nature had decked 
herself in her choicest robes, they sat together on 
the bench on Sugar Loaf in silent enjoyment of the 
scene of beauty about them when, at length, Robert 


48 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


broke the silence with the question, “Uncle Danny, 
isn’t this a good time for an executive session?” 

“Well,” replied Uncle Danny, “the auspices seem 
propitious.” 

“Aha, Uncle Danny, I caught you that time.” 

“Caught me? Well, I don’t feel caught.” 

“Well, you are, whether you feel like it or not.” 

“Thou enigmatical scion of Mystery, how am I 
caught ?” 

“Why, I know where you read about the auspices 
being propitious.” 

“Very well, Solomon, second edition, where did I 
read it?” 

“Why, in Classic Myths ” 

“Oho! So you’ve been perusing that self-same 
volume, have you?” 

“Yes, indeedy, and I like it immensely,” enthused 
Robert. 

“Well, that’s the way for a boy to like such a 
book as that. But we are wandering from the path. 
Just why are you asking for an executive session?” 

“I wanted to ask you an important question — oh, 
very important.” 

“The plot thickens,” said Uncle Danny, smiling 
amiably. “Go ahead, then, Mr. Interlocutor, and 
propound your very important question.” 

“What is a liberal education?” 

“I don’t know.” 


THE BOY 


49 

“You don’t know? And you are a professor over 
in the college !” 

“The prisoner at the bar pleads guilty to the 
charge and throws himself upon the mercy of the 
court.” 

“And the court will be kind to him because of 
his gray hahs and his nice dog,” laughed Robert. 

“Come alive, Nick. I salute you; I kiss my hand 
to you. You are certainly a very present help in 
time of trouble,” cried Uncle Danny. 

“But, Uncle Danny, I do want to know what a 
liberal education is. I asked our teacher yesterday, 
and she told me to ask you. If you can’t tell me, I 
don’t know what to do about it. Don’t any of the 
college professors know what it is?” 

“Oh, bless you, yes. They all know, or think 
they do, but they all give different definitions, and 
each one is certain that his definition is the right one. 
But tell me, Robert, what set you to thinking about 
a liberal education?” 

“Easy ! I’ve been reading Sesame and Lilies , that 
you let me have.” 

“Blessed be John Ruskin!” exclaimed Uncle 
Danny. “A man who can write a book that a twelve- 
year-old boy likes to read and that his gray-haired 
Uncle Danny reads again and again, must be a man 
worth while.” 

“And do you like it, too, Uncle Danny?” 


50 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“I certainly do, and have read it many times. I 
now clearly see how you came to ask what a liberal 
education is, and, as you say, it is a very important 
question. I only wish I could give you a satisfac- 
tory answer.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, don’t you know any answers 
to the question?” 

“Yes, indeed, scores of them.” 

“What are 'scores,’ Uncle Danny?” 

“Why, a score is twenty, Robert.” 

“So, then, you know forty, or sixty, answers to 
that question ?” 

“You certainly do shine in the realm of multipli- 
cation. Yes, I suppose I could give you sixty 
answers to your question.” 

“Well, if you know so many, I think you might 
spare a boy one of them. I’ll not tell, if you want 
to keep it a secret.” 

“I can’t just say that any of my answers could 
be called secrets, but your teacher and the college 
professors might smile if they should hear some of 
them.” 

“Try one of them on me, anyhow, Uncle 
Danny,” urged Robert. 

“All right, young man, since you insist : 'A lib- 
eral education is an influence that causes people to 
change their minds.’ ” 


THE BOY 


5i 


“But, Uncle Danny, I — well — why ” 

“Yes, that’s just the way those college professors 
would think of it, too.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, that seems such an easy 
answer. All a fellow has to do is to change his 
mind and he has a liberal education.” 

“Hold your horses there, Robert Hilton; the 
team is running off ! I didn’t say that at all. I said 
that a liberal education is an influence that causes 
people to do something. You have the cart before 
the horse.” 

“All right, Uncle Danny. Won’t you hitch the 
horse up right, then?” 

“All right, Sir Pertinacity ; if I must be a hostler, 
I’ll try to get this team going the way teams should 
go. You tell me you have been reading Classic 
Myths and Sesame and Lilies . Very well, what 
books did you read a year or two years ago ?” 

“Why Alger and Henty.” 

“Why aren’t you reading their books now ?” 

“Because I’ve — oh, I see, I’ve changed my mind.” 

“Good! Dear sir, you are smarter than you 
look.” 

“You’re not.” 

“Wake up, there, Nick! Robert is saying things.” 

“But, really, Uncle Danny, I think I do see what 
you mean. I didn’t like history, at first, but I do 


5 2 


UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


like it now. That shows I’ve changed my mind, 
doesn’t it?” 

“That’s the big idea, and the more often you 
change your mind in that way the faster you will 
travel toward a liberal education. But I suggest 
that we now recess for half an hour to stretch our 
legs, make some discoveries, if possible, and give 
Nick a chance to locate a chipmunk. He’ll grow 
stale if he doesn’t take some exercise in pursuit of 
wild beasts.” 

So they went their several ways, to negotiate 
whatever enterprises might fall out. 

When Robert finally returned he found that Uncle 
Danny and Nick had preceded him, and when he 
would have explained his tardiness Uncle Danny 
reassured him and gave him to understand that 
when we are deeply interested in any enterprise the 
clock seems to get in a hurry. He then Very artfully 
reached the conclusion that, if the teachers would 
,but contrive some compelling interest, there would 
be fewer tardy pupils. Then, quite abruptly, he 
asked, “And what discoveries did you make, Rob- 
ert?” 

“Oh, I had a lot of fun, and I saw thirteen birds, 
and one was a red-bird, a scarlet — what do you 
call it?” 

“Tanager.” 


THE BOY 


53 


“Yes, thank you, scarlet tanager. Isn’t he a 
beauty ?” 

“He is, indeed. But I saw only twelve birds; so 
you beat me in the bird-game.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, one of my birds was a hawk 
that was sailing about up in the sky. You ought 
to look up more.” 

“ ‘Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings,’ ” 
quoted Uncle Danny. “Quite right, Robert, and I 
feel properly rebuked. Of course, we all ought to 
look up more, and we miss a lot of things because 
we keep looking down. But I see you found some 
flowers, too.” 

“Yes, sir; they played hide-and-seek with me and 
I said T spy’ and gathered some to take home with 
me. But, Uncle Danny, my biggest discovery was 
that you are an influence.” 

“Hooray! I can’t think of anything I’d rather 
be.” 

“Why, Uncle Danny, I thought you’d rather be 
Professor of Greek and Latin than anything.” 

“Not a bit of it! I’d rather be an influence than 
a professor of a dozen languages. Why, Robert, 
Influence is the main tent and Greek and Latin are 
only the side-show. I work in the side-show so as 
to have a free pass to the main tent, for there’s 
where the big work is done.” 


54 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“But that sounds like circus talk, Uncle Danny.” 

“The analogy does great credit to your perspi- 
cacity, my son.” 

“Uncle Danny, aren’t you having one of those 
spasms of English language that you say I have 
sometimes ?” 

“Yes, I confess to a momentary mental aberra- 
tion. I was just taking a little flight in my airship.” 

“Don’t do it, Uncle Danny. You might stretch 
your suspenders. Don’t do it — not ever.” 

“Very well, Sir Censor, or Sponsor, or Nestor. 
I’ll try to refrain, or abstain, as you will. But now 
I am curious to learn how you discovered that I am 
an influence.” 

“It was this way : While I was counting the birds 
and playing with the flowers I got to thinking about 
what you said a liberal education is. And, all at 
once it popped into my mind that you are an influ- 
ence because you cause people to change their 
minds.” 

“Robert, my boy, you are a logician.” 

“A what ?” asked Robert. 

“Well, never mind about that; but you are one 
anyhow, and it is nothing to be ashamed of. But 
what people have I caused to change their minds?” 

“I’m one of them.” 

“You? Explain yourself, will you?” 

“Well, you see, Uncle Danny, if I hadn’t read 


THE BOY 


55 


Freckles and The Girl of the Limberlost I wouldn’t 
have seen all those birds and flowers to-day. You 
let me have those books, so, you see, you caused me 
to change my mind.” 

“Well, if that’s the way a change of mind works, 
I’m in favor of it.” 

“So am I. But, Uncle Danny, I wish you’d cause 
mama to change her mind.” 

“In what way?” asked Uncle Danny, with an air 
of caution. 

“So she’d read the kind of books you let me have.” 

“Doesn’t she ?” 

“No, sir. She picked up Sesame and Lilies the 
other night, but put it down pretty soon and said 
she couldn’t make heads nor tails of it.” 

“What does she read?” 

“She’s reading a book named Graustark . Mrs. 
Smythe let her have it and she told mama that 
Guinevere says it is positively grand.” 

“Oh, ye superlative Smythes !” 

“What does that mean, Uncle Danny?” 

“It means, my son, that your Uncle Danny for- 
gets, and talks to himself, sometimes. These spells 
don’t come upon him often, and there is really no 
cause for alarm.” 

“Oh, all right. And, Uncle Danny, I wish mama 
would let me have a dog.” 

“Well, why not?” 


56 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“She says a dog litters up the house, and she just 
won’t have one around. She says a boy is enough 
bother without having a dog, too. Why, she won’t 
let me go into the parlor, because, she says, she 
wants to keep it in order for the company.” 

“Urn, I see.” 

“When I go home from school, she’s hardly ever 
there, and if I had a dog it wouldn’t be so lonesome.” 

“Urn, I see.” 

“You know she goes to some club meeting or 
something about every day.” 

“Um, I see. But, Robert, you know that Nick 
and I are always glad to have you come over to 
stay with us when you get lonesome.” 

“Yes, I know. But mama says I spend too 
much time over at your house. She says I seem 
to like you more than I do her.” 

“Um, I see. Well, I suspect we’d better be trot- 
ting along home, now. It is not far from time for 
lunch, and your mama might not like it if you are 
late.” 

“I should say not,” replied Robert with emphasis. 

On the following Saturday, the weather still be- 
ing fine, the three of them went on their final fish- 
ing trip to the lake some miles away. Mrs. Hilton 
readily assented to the arrangement, saying that 
some social duties would keep her from home most 


THE BOY 


57 


of the day and that Robert was such a trial on Sat- 
urdays anyhow. No sooner had they alighted from 
the trolley-car at the lake than Uncle Danny secured 
a boat with a broad bottom, stipulating that two 
pairs of oars should be supplied. Robert watched 
these preliminary arrangements with keen interest 
but without comment for he had come to feel that 
,'Uncle Danny does all things well. After two or 
three hours of successful fishing, Uncle Danny sug- 
gested that some lunch might not come amiss, and 
pointed out a nice place on the opposite shore for 
the purpose. Then ensued Robert’s first lesson in 
rowing, and the second pair of oars was fully ex- 
plained. Seated behind Uncle Danny he heeded his 
instructions and copied his movements, as best he 
could, so that as they were nearing the shore Robert 
was able to propel the boat alone. 

The large basket, which accompanied them, pro- 
vided an ample supply of cooking utensils and things 
edible, and very soon a fire was blazing in the midst 
of stones that, somehow, under Uncle Danny’s 
management had got themselves into just the right 
position and the frying pan was soon doing its ap- 
pointed work. Robert did his full share of the 
work of dressing the fish, slicing the bread, and 
opening the cans. There was a generous bottle of 
milk for Robert, and, of course, jelly, with a crown- 


58 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


piece of sugared cookies at the close. When the 
dishes had been washed and the basket repacked 
they sat about the fire for a time in silence that be- 
tokened satisfaction with mundane affairs. Then 
Uncle Danny suggested a game of catch. 

“But, we haven’t a ball,” objected Robert. 

“Oh, yes, we have,” said Uncle Danny, and his 
pocket yielded one forth. 

When the game began to pall upon Robert, Uncle 
Danny was quick to note the fact and suggested that 
he himself had had enough ball for one day. So, 
flushed with the exercise, they resumed the log from 
which lunch had been served. Presently, Robert 
asked, “Uncle Danny, do you think the auspices are 
propitious for another executive session?” 

“Oh, thou source of sesquipedalian English un- 
defiled!” laughed Uncle Danny. “Of course, never 
a better time nor a fitter place. So, what will the 
seeker after knowledge have at this session?” 

“I’d like to hear some more of your sixty defini- 
tions of a liberal education.” 

“Did I say sixty?” 

“Yes, sir; sixty.” 

“Oh, prodigious Memory! Thy name is Robert 
Hilton ! Why, boy, you are like another conscience 
in keeping a fellow reminded of things. Well, then, 
here’s another one : ‘A liberal education is a means 


THE BOY 


59 


of preventing a person from thinking of himself as 
superfluous.’ ” 

“Look here, Nick, do you understand what Uncle 
Danny is saying? I don’t.” 

“Aha! I thought I’d hook you on that one. Well, 
let me try to pulverize it a bit. Superfluous means 
something that is left out, or left over, something 
that isn’t needed. If you have ever been around 
where people were talking of things you didn’t 
understand, you must have felt that you were not 
needed, that you were superfluous.” 

“Oh, I see. Yes, I felt that way the other day 
when mama and a lot of ladies were talking about 
making dresses, and what kind of trimming they 
were going to have for their hats, and such talk as 
that. I felt so superfluous that I went right over to 
see you, and you gave me that Baldwin book Fifty 
Famous Riders. My! I do like that book.” 

“So do I.” 

“Did you read it, too? Do you read every book 
you let me take?” 

“Why, of course.” 

“But why?” 

“Because I like to read good books, and because 
I want to learn what books you’ll enjoy.” 

“Uncle Danny, you’re good to me. I wish papa 
would be like you. He doesn’t seem to care what I 


6o UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


read, and he wouldn’t have taught me how to row 
the boat to-day, nor how to build a camp-fire. He 
never did play catch with me, and we have never 
had an executive session. He always says he’s too 
busy. I wish he wouldn’t be so busy, so I do.” 

“Um, I see. But let me presume to resume. You 
see, if you are not to feel superfluous, you must 
know what people are talking and writing about. If 
you don’t know your history, and hear people talk- 
ing of history, you’ll feel superfluous. If you go to 
a concert and don’t understand music, you’ll feel 
superfluous. If you go to an art gallery and don’t 
understand pictures, you’ll feel superfluous.” 

“ I see it, Uncle Danny, I see it,” exclaimed Rob- 
ert in tones of triumph. “Then I’ll have to know 
everything, won’t I ?” he added more reflectively. 

“Well, that’s a large contract, but your educa- 
tion would certainly be liberal. But, let us walk 
down to the beach where I can use the sand as a 
blackboard. Well, here we are. You see here a 
circle whose diameter is two inches. That, means 
that the circumference is something more than six 
inches, for you must multiply the diameter by three, 
plus, to get the circumference or the distance 
around it. Here I draw another circle six inches in 
diameter. What is the circumference of this one?” 

“Eighteen inches and more.” 


THE BOY 


61 


“Right you are. Here’s one ten inches in diam- 
eter.” 

“Thirty.” 

“Right again. Now, if I were to draw one a 
hundred inches in diameter, then what?” 

“Three hundred.” 

“Quite right. Now, if the circle represents what 
a person knows and the space outside the circle is 
what he doesn’t know, you find that the more he 
knows the longer becomes the line of things he 
doesn’t know. When you know a circle six inches 
in diameter the unknown line is eighteen inches; 
but when you know a circle a hundred inches in 
diameter, the line of unknown is three hundred.” 

“Oh, I see. The more you know, the more you 
find out you don’t know. Is that it?” 

“Exactly. Only, the more you know the more 
you wish to make your circle larger.” 

“Oh, yes, you want to catch the fish out in the 
unknown and pull them into the boat with the other 
things you know?” 

“Good! That’s better than I could have done. 
Yes, that’s just it.” 

“Gee, Uncle Danny, I’m going to be busy.” 

“How’s that?” 

“Why, I have so many fish that I must pull in.” 

“Do you know their names ?” 


62 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“Yes, I know quite a few of them. There's Chris 
and His Wonderful Lamp , Captains Courageous , 
Stories of Thrift , Hans Brink er and then, you 
know, you told me that you have those other two 
History Stories of Other Lands , and Howard Pyle’s 
books, Robin Hood and King Arthur — oh, what a 
lot of fish.” 

“Perfectly good fish, too,” said Uncle Danny, 
“and quite anxious to be caught. But you must not 
forget the Barbour books, The Beach Patrol , For the 
Honor of the School , Behind the Line , and the rest 
of them.” 

“Yes, and there’s Rab and His Friends and Bob , 
Son of Battle — I mustn’t leave them out. Say, 
Uncle Danny, I’ve got to keep fishing, haven’t I?” 

“Well, you have the whole winter before you, 
and you can catch a big string of fish in one winter. 
There are such fine fish as Quentin Durward, Kenil- 
worth, Tlve Tale of Two Cities, Kidnapped, and 
Great Expectations all waiting to be caught. Be- 
sides, these fish are quite tame and will stay right 
near the boat. There’s another good thing about 
all this fishing. The boat is a magic one and grows 
larger every time you land another fish.” 

“Do you think, Uncle Danny, that my boat might 
grow to be a hundred-inch one?” 

“Certainly, if you keep right on with your fish- 


THE BOY 


63 


ing. But, now, methinks it is high time this expe- 
dition were making ready for the return voyage.” 

When they parted at Uncle Danny’s front gate, 
Robert frankly shook hands and said, “Uncle 
Danny, we’ve had a fine time, to-day. You are 
good to me. Good night.” 

“Yes, we have had a good day together, Robert; 
and I hope we may have many others just as good. 
I hope the fishing may be good this evening. Good 
night.” 

A few days later as Uncle Danny emerged from 
his home going up the hill to the college to meet his 
classes, he encountered Mr. Hilton and they saun- 
tered along together in amiable conversation. After 
a time Mr. Hilton said, apropos of nothing, “Uncle 
Danny, I want you to know how grateful I am for 
all you are doing for my boy, Robert. He’s a fine 
chap, and I feel that you are doing more for him 
than his own father.” 

“To me that sounds very like a confession,” was 
the reply. 

“Yes, it does sound so, but, you see, my time is so 
taken up with my business — ” 

“Oh, business!” Uncle Danny interrupted. “That 
seems to be sufficiently elastic to cover a multitude 
of sins. I can’t think of any item of your business 
that is comparable to that boy. And yet you put him 


64 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


off with the scraps and leavings of your time and 
energy. You think him a fine boy, and so he is. 
You take pride in him, and with good warrant. But, 
did you ever stop to consider whether he takes pride 
in his father, whether he thinks you the best father 
a boy could possibly have? If you had a picture of 
yourself as he thinks of you, do you think you’d 
keep it hanging above your desk alongside of his ?” 

“Why, Uncle Danny, I never thought of that.” 

“No, of course not; and, in that respect, you are 
a typical American father. You men think your 
sons ought to worship you simply because you are 
their fathers. You bring them into the world and 
then rush off to business and leave them to their own 
devices, or farm them out to a nurse, or a relative, 
or some neighbor. I suspect I know far more about 
Robert’s school work, the books he reads, and the 
games he enjoys than his father. I know his teacher 
and often talk with her about his work, and the 
chances are you do not know her when you see her, 
possibly, not even her name.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, you must realize that all my 
hard work is done in Robert’s interests.” 

“Nonsense! Not a bit of it! You delude your- 
self into that notion, just as thousands of other 
men are doing, but it is the merest fiction. You 
have a reputation as a successful business man, but, 


THE BOY 


65 


by your own confession, you do not manage your 
business. On the contrary, you let it manage you 
in such a way that you have no time to give to your 
own child. Do you ever play games with him? 
No. Do you ever read books with him? No. Do 
you ever take rambles with him? No. Do you ever 
talk with him? No. Oh, you talk to him and at 
him, but never with him. You expect him to get 
your point of view, but you make no effort to get 
his. You set yourself aloft on a pedestal of father- 
hood and expect him to burn incense before you. 
And when he doesn’t you think of him as an ingrate, 
and probably tell him so.” 

“Say, Uncle Danny, you are talking pretty 
straight, aren’t you?” 

“Well, you know a straight line is the shortest 
distance between two points, and, seeing that I’m 
aiming at a definite point I find no occasion for 
circumlocution. I love your boy and regret to see 
you lose him. But you are losing him — and that 
because you are pushing him away from you. The 
very reason he and I have become such good chums 
is that you never chum with him and a boy will 
inevitably gravitate to the person who will make 
a chum of him. So, he has the run of our home, 
and our furniture is not so valuable that we fear he 
may mar it. He knows where the cooky- jar is, too, 


66 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


and feels free to improve the opportunities that it 
offers.” 

“Uncle Danny, do you think it is too late for me 
to win Robert back ?” 

“By no manner of means.” 

“How would you advise that I go about it ?” 

“Get him a nice dog.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, possibly you don’t under- 
stand — ” 

“Yes, I do, I understand fully. But, get him a 
dog.” 

“In humility, I thank you, Uncle Danny. And 
now, if you’ll excuse me I’ll go back to the house 
and walk to school with Robert, so as to make the 
acquaintance of his teacher.” 

“Good idea ! Capital !” 


CHAPTER V 


THE COLLEGE PROFESSOR 

Doctor Theodore Dunlevy came at the opening 
of the college year as the new professor of educa- 
tional psychology in the Department of Education. 
His advent had been foretold in all the college pub- 
lications and the fact that he had just completed his 
doctorate at Harvard was duly set forth with lauda- 
tory embellishments. There could be no doubt in 
the mind of any one as to his preeminent fitness for 
the work to which he had been called, for his doc- 
torate from Harvard set him apart in the thinking 
of all who had, in any manner, been apprised of his 
coming. It seemed nothing short of remarkable 
that one of his years should have attained such 
heights of scholastic eminence. It is not strange, 
therefore, that prior to his arrival, he had been 
invested with almost superhuman attributes. Nor 
is it strange that the entire college circle was all 
agog to catch a glimpse of him when the day of his 
arrival finally came. The ladies of the faculty 
circle were inclined to lionize him somewhat and so 
emphasized in his consciousness the cordiality of his 
67 


68 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


reception. In this atmosphere of cordiality he felt 
that he had reached the goal of his endeavors, and 
that his years of diligent study were producing rich 
fruitage. 

He felt more than ever that the achieving of his 
doctorate had been well worth while since it had 
proved to be his passport into such an amiable en- 
vironment and his letters home brimmed with en- 
thusiastic self-gratulation. He was specially pleased 
to have the title “Doctor” applied to him by all the 
college people and became expansive in the secret 
contemplation of the impressive dignity with which 
the recognition of his title seemed to invest him. 
The reputation which had preceded him and the 
laudation which had been bestowed upon him 
throughout the college circle had influenced many 
students to elect his courses so as to give themselves 
the benefit of his large erudition and his brilliant 
qualities. Mothers gently but firmly counseled 
their daughters to modify their previous plans so as 
to join his classes for, they argued, we must all do 
our utmost to show the Doctor that we recognize 
and appreciate genius in this college. 

During the progress of these events that stimu- 
lated college affairs to an unusual degree, Uncle 
Danny, Nick at his heels, pursued his accustomed 
ways, with his usual air of urbanity and serenity. 


THE COLLEGE PROFESSOR 


69 


The coming of the learned Doctor did not, in the 
least, disturb the balance of Uncle Danny, nor yet 
his equipoise. He met the Doctor frequently on 
the campus or in the corridors and always gave him 
a gracious salutation. But it was evident that 
after one of these meetings the Doctor never once 
thought of Uncle Danny until they met again. Then 
he would greet him casually, and somewhat per- 
functorily, as if he were in haste to be somewhere 
else. 

In time, however, the Doctor became conscious . 
of Nick as a vague and somewhat insidious disturb- 
ing element. And his final consciousness of Nick 
led him to reason from the dog to the man. Some- 
how, the pair of them could not be made to fit into 
his preconceptions of a college community. They 
seemed to be an element of alley in his academic 
concept. Their presence in the college or on the 
campus seemed an academic incongruity. There 
was a puzzle in it all, if not a mystery. The people 
who had received him so royally accepted or, at 
least, tolerated this peculiar man and his no less 
peculiar dog. It was all quite inexplicable. The 
more he pondered it the more bewildered he became. 
He knew, of course, that Uncle Danny was a full 
professor and that fact accentuated his perplexity. 
Could it be, he thought, that some wealthy relative 


7 o UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


had endowed the chair which Uncle Danny held on 
condition that he should be made a professor and 
become the beneficiary of the endowment fund? 
Could the college be in such sore straits for funds 
that they must, perforce, barter away its dignity 
and do violence to academic standards? He felt 
that it wasn’t fair to him to be classed with a man 
whose status seemed to be so vague and nebulous. 
However, finding no means ready to hand by which 
he might solve the situation that so perplexed him, 
he determined to proceed with his work and let 
time become the solvent. But, as the weeks passed, 
time seemed to be playing some trick with him and 
he became more and more deeply involved in the 
labyrinth and no Ariadne had furnished him a clue. 
He found that not only the college people but also 
the towns-people treated Uncle Danny with affec- 
tionate reverence. On the street and in the shops 
people spoke of Uncle Danny as an institution and 
not at all as a mere member of the human family. 

Uncle Danny was quite unconscious of the per- 
turbed state of the Doctor’s mind and proceeded 
with his teaching of the humanities while Nick took 
a siesta or moved about the room as inclination dic- 
tated. Some of the students seemed envious of Nick 
in his freedom to wander off into dreamland at will, 
but Uncle Danny had a large assortment of antidotes 


THE COLLEGE PROFESSOR 71 

for somnolence which he used so effectively that 
these students took counsel with discretion rather 
than propensity. On one occasion the Doctor 
stopped for a moment at the door of Uncle Danny’s 
room to note the evident interest on the part of the 
students in the work that was forward. He had 
really expected to find the young people looking 
bored and uncomfortable. Instead, he found them 
altogether alert and responsive. In fact, they seemed 
eager to make contributions to the work in hand, 
whereas his own students seemed ill at ease, even 
when he rose to sublime heights of eloquence in set- 
ting forth for their delectation the profundities of 
educational psychology. And there was the omni- 
present Nick, too, sleeping in peace and the students 
apparently unconscious of his presence. How, he 
asked himself, could such things be? Should a dog 
enter his own room there would ensue, he felt cer- 
tain, a general uproar and the dog would inconti- 
nently retreat before a shower of missiles. Can it 
be possible, he ruminated, that my lot has been cast 
among plebeians when I was so certain that they are 
patricians ? 

So it came to pass, as months went by, that he re- 
luctantly reached the conclusion that no one but 
Uncle Danny could solve the riddle which had be- 
come an obsession. But even this conclusion af- 


72 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


forded him small comfort, for he had been at no 
pains to learn the avenue of approach to the man 
whom the entire populace seemed to hold in the 
highest esteem. Besides, Nick was another bar- 
rier. He felt that he could not hold with a man 
who made a dog a sort of adjunct professor of 
Greek and Latin. He shuddered. He had made a few 
attempts to gain from people of the village an ex- 
planation of Uncle Danny and usually asked why 
he was so popular, and, invariably, received the 
reply, “Why, because he is Uncle Danny.” This 
answer was given with a finality that served to in- 
terdict further interrogation. 

Hence, it fell out that he must call upon Uncle 
Danny or become so hopelessly enmeshed in his per- 
plexity that he could hope for no extrication. In- 
deed, Uncle Danny had become such a deep problem 
that the subjects he had studied in pursuit of his 
doctorate seemed mild by comparison. Then it 
dawned upon him that he might be of service to 
Uncle Danny in the way of causing him to aspire to 
a higher plane of dignity and a larger recognition 
of academic standards. This thought redeemed the 
prospective visit from some of its darker aspects. 
Yes, he would go in the true missionary spirit and 
as a harbinger of light. However, he took the pre- 
caution to go under cover of darkness, as did Nico- 


THE COLLEGE PROFESSOR 


73 


demus before him, so as to avert any unpleasant 
comments. Uncle Danny might be a very pleasant 
old gentleman who had ingratitated himself with 
the people by his long residence among them, but it 
was just as well to exercise due caution for he had 
the dignity of his doctorate to maintain. 

Uncle Danny greeted his visitor with unfeigned 
cordiality but with no slightest trace of sycophancy. 
Indeed, he was so much at ease in the presence of 
the Doctor as to indicate that he experienced no 
abashment when scholastic dignity crossed his thres- 
hold. His easy grace and complete self-possession 
disconcerted the Doctor somewhat for he had fully 
expected that his advent would create something 
of a stir, if not an actual flutter, in the usual order. 
But nothing happened. Nick slept right on as if 
he, too, were quite accustomed to distinguished 
guests. The peace and serenity of his surroundings 
had the effect of dampening the Doctor’s mission- 
ary ardor and he wondered how he was to broach 
the subjects that impelled his visit. So, having given 
due consideration to the topics of weather and gen- 
eral health, he finally decided to make the plunge 
into his major theme taking Nick as a text or per- 
haps, rather, as a pretext. 

“Uncle Danny,” said he, “I see that your dog is 
as faithful to you at home as he is at the college.” 


74 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“Oh, yes,” replied Uncle Danny, “tenacity of pur- 
pose is one of his strong points. Besides, he is so 
cosmopolitan in his tastes that it is all one to him 
whether he is here or at the college. He seems to 
know how to adapt himself to his environment, pro- 
vided that I am a part of the environment. He 
seems to say with Ruth ‘Whither thou goest I will 
go.’ ” 

“I think I hardly follow you,” said the Doctor. 

“Likely not,” replied Uncle Danny. 

“It is rather a new experience to me to find a dog 
attending college classes.” 

“Probably. But new experiences may prove of 
value.” 

“Well, er — yes — I suppose so. But doesn’t the 
presence of a dog interfere with sequential thinking 
in your classes ?” 

“The best reply I can make to your question is 
to quote what the man said when he looked for 
the first time upon a giraffe, ‘They ain’t no sich 
animal.’ ” 

“What!” exclaimed the Doctor. “No sequential 
thinking in our classes? Do you mean to say that 
my students may be thinking of irrelevant matters 
while I am proclaiming and elucidating the founda- 
tion principles of psychology?” 

“I can conceive that such a thing might happen, 
even in such circumstances.” 


THE COLLEGE PROFESSOR 


75 


“Montrous ! But of what would they be thinking, 
if not of psychology?” 

“Well, as to that,” was the reply as Uncle Danny 
apparently winked in Nick’s direction, “the boys 
might be thinking of the girls, the girls of the boys, 
and all of them might be thinking of parties, ice- 
cream, foot-ball, or how to delude you into believing 
that they were intensely interested in your profound 
observations.” 

“I think, Uncle Danny, that I hardly follow you.” 

“Likely not. But your students would if they 
were here.” 

“You know, I dare say, that I achieved my doc- 
torate at Harvard ?” 

“Yes, I gathered that from what I saw in the 
public print.” 

“Yes, they were kind enough to set out my schol- 
astic attainments at some length, and I deeply ap- 
preciate the courtesy. But I was about to observe 
that, in all the time I was at Harvard, I do not re- 
call that I ever remarked the presence of a dog in 
one of the classes.” 

“That may well be; but, even at that, I do not 
wholly despair of those Harvard chaps. I still have 
hopes.” 

“Really, Uncle Danny, I think I do not follow 
you.” 

“Likely not.” 


76 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“But,” persisted the Doctor, “I should think that 
the presence of a dog in the class-room would mili- 
tate against discipline.” 

“Oh, discipline. Well, if the discipline in my 
room were so precarious that Nick would throw it 
out of balance, I’d think I was due for a season of 
meditation and prayer.” 

“Let me say once again, Uncle Danny, that I 
think I hardly follow you.” 

“Likely not.” 

“The fact is, Uncle Danny, we do not seem to be 
getting on very fast or very far in our conference.” 

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m enjoying myself.” 

“Yes, I suppose it must relieve the monotony to 
have some one drop in of an evening.” 

“Oh, quite so,” drawled Uncle Danny. 

The Doctor paused for a time as if for a re-align- 
ment of his forces or for the bringing forward of 
his reserves. Or he may have been trying to fathom 
some of the cryptic remarks in which Uncle Danny 
had indulged. But, quite undaunted, he rallied to 
the attack and presently asked : “Uncle Danny, I 
wonder if it has occurred to you to aspire to one of 
the higher degrees ?” 

“Oh, bless your life, Doctor, I have so many 
degrees now that I don’t know what to do with 
them.” 


THE COLLEGE PROFESSOR 


77 


“You haven’t, by any chance, achieved a doctor- 
ate, have you?” 

“Oh, mercy, yes, I have enough doctorates around 
here somewhere to fit me out as the manager of a 
hospital, with a veterinary annex.” 

“Why, you astound me, I had no idea.” 

“Likely not.” 

“You have studied at Harvard, then?” 

“No.” 

“Not? Then where did you win your doctorate?” 

“Heidelberg.” 

“What! Heidelberg? In Germany?” 

“Yes.” 

“And you studied at Heidelberg?” 

“Obviously.” 

“So, you have been across the water?” 

“Obviously.” 

“Why, really, I am amazed.” 

“You mean because I crossed the ocean or be- 
cause I managed to get back ?” 

“You are pleased to be facetious, perhaps?” asked 
the Doctor. 

“Not to any great extent. But I am curious to 
learn whether your astonishment is due to the fact 
that I have traveled abroad, that I have a Ph. D. 
degree, or to your previous conception of me.” 

“Well,” said the Doctor, “to be perfectly frank, 


;8 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


my previous conception of you did not connect you 
either with a doctorate or with foreign travel. But 
let me be bold enough to inquire what other de- 
grees you hold.” 

‘Til tell you, but what I say must be held in the 
strictest confidence. I am a Doctor of Laws and a 
Doctor of Divinity; but I find it difficult to live up 
to any of my degrees, and I can’t make out why 
they ever thrust such encumbrances upon me.” 

“ Really, Uncle Danny, I seem not to be able to 
get your point of view.” 

“Possibly I may be able to assist you. I have such 
a profound regard for scholarship that I would save 
it from the fate of undue advertising. If my schol- 
arship must have a label or a tag attached to it to 
render it visible I’d feel that I ought to go back to 
Heidelberg and get. more of it so that it might be- 
come evident by its own inherent quality. Some 
people seem to think it necessary to have their lug- 
gage plastered -over with hotel labels as an evidence 
that they have traveled abroad. To me it seems a 
sort of confession that they feel they must advertise 
in order to make it evident that they have traveled. 
They seem to be trying to indicate a subjective ex- 
perience by an objective symbol, and hope to compel 
recognition whereas the subjective experience should 


THE COLLEGE PROFESSOR 


79 


be of such a nature and quality as to impel recogni- 
tion.” 

“Uncle Danny, you certainly use words with apt 
discrimination.” 

“That’s what words are for.” 

“And your philosophy impresses me greatly.” 

“That’s what philosophy is for.” 

“In all you have been saying you seem to be hold- 
ing a mirror up before me.” 

“That’s what a mirror is for.” 

“At any rate, Uncle Danny, by the aid of your 
mirror I seem to be winning your point of view not 
to mention any modifications of my own; and I shall 
be glad to hear you elucidate your philosophy of 
education still further.” 

“Really, Doctor, your attitude does you credit and 
encourages me. Well, then, as I said before, de- 
grees are well enough when they betoken scholar- 
ship that is self-evident. In that case, there is no 
occasion to exploit the degrees. We have been so 
long saying that knowledge is power that we have 
come to believe it.” 

“What! Knowledge not power?” 

“Not a bit of it! Knowledge is merely potential. 
It is useful as an agency in generating power, but 
that is when it is at work. Knowledge in cold stor- 


8o UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


age is never power. Gasoline is an inert substance, 
but set it to work and we derive power. All 
these degrees that you and I have are mere ex- 
ponents of things that are potential. They are 
merely marching orders, but, if we refuse to march, 
they become non-effective and misleading.” 

‘'Well, Uncle Danny, you and I are certainly 
marching.” 

“Perhaps; but we must be quite certain that we 
are marching in the right direction, else our degrees 
become worse than futile. Some people think they 
are marching when they are merely in motion.” 

“Ah, a nice distinction !” 

“Yes, and a distinction that is as true as it is 
nice.” 

“But, I never thought of that before.” 

“That proves, then, that at length we are making 
headway in our conference this evening.” 

“Headway! Indeed, yes. I feel as if I were 
being dragged three times around the walls at the 
tail of Uncle Danny’s chariot.” 

“Good ; Doctor, you are coming on. Your knowl- 
edge is becoming power.” 

“Due entirely to the skill of your teaching.” 

“Thank you. ‘But, now that you speak of teach- 
ing, there are two phases of that work that need 
emphasis, and, perhaps, re-statement. All of us 


THE COLLEGE PROFESSOR 


81 


teachers are great sinners and need forty-horse- 
power repentance. We seem not to be able to get 
away from the American notion of show and parade. 
We want to attach a medal, or a banner, or a credit, 
or a degree to every phase of the truth we try to 
teach. We want all our work to be labeled as ex- 
hibits and thus seem to doubt the power of the work 
to proclaim itself, to make itself manifest. We 
often extol the simple truth and yet try to deck it 
out in frills and furbelows, nraking it seem anything 
but simple. Parenthetically, I have often wondered 
why you psychologists do not learn to speak the 
English language. It is a good language and lends 
itself readily to the expression of thought. ,, 

‘‘So much I have already had occasion to observe 
this evening,” replied the Doctor with a significant 
smile. 

“Very well. If it can perform that function in 
this room, it can do the same in any class-room in 
the college.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, the psychologists have con- 
ceived the notion that their technical terms are more 
impressive.” 

“Fiddle-strings! They’d better be trying to be- 
come expressive. If they do that their students 
will take good care of the impressive part of the 
game. Many a professor has got himself laughed 


82 UNCLE DANNY'S NEIGHBORS 


at by his students because he had more sail than 
ballast. He was impressive but he wouldn't care to 
wear on his watch-charm the impression he made 
on the minds of his students." 

“I'm wondering, Uncle Danny, if any of my stu- 
dents have ever spoken to you of the impression my 
work makes upon them?" 

“Doctor, wouldn’t it be better to confine ourselves 
to the impersonal plane?" 

“It can not be done, for I have .been on the per- 
sonal plane for the past half hour. What you have 
been saying has such a direct bearing upon my own 
work that I find it impossible not to make a personal 
application." 

“Doctor, you challenge my profound admiration 
and I’ll meet you half-way by telling you, man to 
man, that your students often talk to me of you 
and your- work. They say you know your subject 
but do not succeed in getting them to know it. They 
say your work is a sorry waste of perfectly good 
knowledge. As they express it, you fail to ‘put it 
across.' " 

“Wait a minute, Uncle Danny. Let the prisoner 
at the bar say a word in his own behalf. If I place 
the right kind of food on the table before them, 
isn’t it their responsibility to take it or leave it?” 

“Thank you, Doctor, for a very pat illustration. 


THE COLLEGE PROFESSOR 


83 


Not by any means. We teachers are charged with 
the responsibility of placing the food before our 
students, as a matter of course, but we have the 
further responsibility of setting it out in such an 
alluring way that they must partake. We must 
make them hungry for our kind of food — make their 
mouths water for it, as it were. Our first business 
is to get their minds wide open. Your own psychol- 
ogy teaches that students must react to our offerings 
else they make no acquisitions of knowledge. Their 
reactions are their expression and their expression 
must precede and condition impression.” 

“Hold! Hold!” cried the Doctor. “Talk about 
a man’s being hoist by his own petard, I now know 
what that means by experience. I am getting a 
valuable lesson in applied psychology. Here Eve 
been condemning my students for inattention, when, 
in truth, I have not been giving them what would 
impel attention.” 

“You state the case with great clearness, Doctor, 
and I confidently predict that hereafter manner of 
presentation will share the honors with matter.” 

“I hope to justify your prediction, Uncle Danny, 
for I now think I can interpret your thought to mean 
that an academic degree is not a reliable index of 
teaching power.” 

“Just so, and I thank you for thus anticipating 


84 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


me. We have been proceeding upon the agreeable 
assumption that if a man is thoroughly conversant 
with a subject, he can teach it. Experience has 
shown this assumption to be a fallacy, and hence the 
establishment of your own department of educa- 
tion.” 

“And I have been violating the very principle 
upon which our department is based.” 

“Far be it from me to say as much as that ; but, 
be that as it may, it is but the truth to say that every 
teacher in a department of education should be an 
expert in the art of teaching. And, as you say, an 
academic degree does not prove that a man is an 
expert teacher. It proves that he has knowledge, 
but it does not prove that he knows how to use that 
knowledge so as to generate power. In short, it 
does not prove that he knows how to teach. That’s 
just what I meant when I expressed some doubt as 
to my ability to live up to my degrees.” 

“I see the whole matter quite clearly, Uncle 
Danny, and my much exploited and advertised doc- 
torate must stand the test of the class-room. Well, 
just now the poor thing seems the worse for wear, 
and its content seems to need a generous replenish- 
ment.” 

“And it will get it, too, or I’m no judge of men. 
But, Doctor, we need another college and another 


THE COLLEGE PROFESSOR 


85 


degree in this country. We need a college in which 
to train men and women, who have their academic 
degrees, for positions in our colleges of education 
and normal schools; and we need the degree to 
confer upon such persons when they have acquired 
such skill as teachers as will enable them to acquit 
themselves worthily in such positions. ,, 

‘‘So we do ! So we do ! And I hereby nominate 
Uncle Danny as president of the new college and 
I solemnly enroll as the first student if I must 
hypothecate my life-insurance and my dress-suit 
to raise the necessary funds. Uncle Danny, I’m a 
convert and bear glad testimony to your power as 
an evangelist. The scales have fallen from my eyes, 
and I now see. Henceforth, I shall emulate your 
example and try to the utmost of my ability to live 
and work up to my degree.” 

“Doctor, I have always contended that it is pos- 
sible to make something of a Ph. D. man if you can 
only catch him while he is young. But, let me say 
sincerely, that you have surpassed my fondest hopes, 
and almost embarrass me by your eagerness to dis- 
card the mere husks so as to arrive at the rich ker- 
nel. You are so open-minded, and so intelligently 
responsive to right appeals that you have already set 
yourself apart in my affectionate admiration and I 
predict for you a noble career in the work of teach- 


86 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


ing. I am more glad for this evening than I can 
well express and I now know as never before that 
the Department of Education has in you a real man 
as well as a scholar, and, in my thinking, the man 
always has first place.” 

“Uncle Danny, you overwhelm me with your 
kindness, and I have no words in which I can fitly 
and adequately express my gratitude. If degrees 
could express progress I feel that I ought to have 
another degree to indicate the advance I have made 
because of the rich experience of this evening. I can 
only say I thank you. And, Uncle Danny, I think 
better of dogs now than ever before. Do you think 
it might be well for me to get one of my own ?” 

“By all means! The very thing! Get a dog! 
Good night!” 


CHAPTER VI 


TWO GIRLS 

“Mary,” said Guinevere Smythe as they sat talk- 
ing in Mary’s private room, “I’m wondering 
whether you are as fond of Tom Foster as he is of 
you.” 

“Why, Guinevere, whatever put that into your 
head?” 

“Oh, I was just thinking.” 

“A practise to be heartily commended, provided 
the subject of the thinking is worthy, and, possibly, 
relevant.” 

“In this case, it is both, or I’m mistaken,” said 
Guinevere. 

“Very well, then. But even if I concede the 
worthiness, the relevancy needs explanation.” 

“Well, there you sit, and you explain both the 
worthiness and the relevancy.” 

“Oho, so you are making the matter quite per- 
sonal.” 

“It is personal without any of my making.” 

“Well,” said Mary, “I seem to be on the witness- 
stand willy nilly, and may as well make the best of 
it. I might quibble about vour definition of the 

87 ' 


88 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


word ‘fond' which you are bound to admit is a very 
elastic term. As to how fond Tom is of me, I’m 
not adequately informed.” 

“No fault of his, or I don’t know Tom Foster. 
Hasn’t he ever tried to tell you ?” 

“Oh, dear, yes; many a time, but I always man- 
age to shunt him off to some siding for purposes of 
my own.” 

“And those purposes?” 

“Guinevere, you should be a lawyer. You cer- 
tainly are an expert in the art of cross-questioning. 
Well, I don’t mind telling you, but in confidence, 
that I am making a study of Thomas Foster. In 
fact, I’m honoring him with a much closer scrutiny 
than he is aware of, and, to do that, I am keeping 
him at a distance that I may gain a perspective.” 

“Mary Benton, if you are not already a philos- 
opher, you soon will be. You must be one already 
seeing that I don’t, in the least, know what you are 
talking about.” 

“Oh, very well, Miss Barrister; you are entitled 
to a fuller explanation, since you are so keen on the 
subject. I must know Tom far better than I now do 
before I can permit my heart to become involved. 
I’m giving my head the right of way just now, with 
my heart in the background.” 

“What more can you possibly want to know about 


TWO GIRLS 


89 


him? You know he is handsome, popular, rich, an 
excellent student, and that his father will take him 
into the firm as soon as he has completed his col- 
lege course." 

“Oh, yes, all that," Mary replied. 

“Isn't that enough?" 

“By no means." 

“Well, what more do you want to know?" 

“Why, I must know Tom Foster." 

“You do know him, you have just said so." 

“Oh, not at all. I admitted all the facts that you 
adduced, but they are only externals." 

“Well, I suppose you want to know the internal 
Tom Foster." 

“Exactly." 

“But, Mary, you must know that there are a half- 
dozen girls who would snap him up in a minute 
merely on the score of externals." 

“I dare say your surmises are correct, but, for 
that very reason, among others, I am the more care- 
ful." 

“But I don’t see what that has to do with the 
case." 

“Let me try to explain. You know there is an 
adage to the effect that there is more pleasure in 
pursuit than in possession. These girls you speak 
of are quite as attractive as I arn, and more so, to my 


90 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


thinking, but it is just possible that my reluctance 
to meet Tom half-way, or more, has caused me to 
seem all the more desirable. You know that human 
nature yearns for the unattainable. Possibly he has 
set me up on a sort of pedestal because I hold my- 
self somewhat aloof.” 

“I never thought of that view ; but it may be the 
true one.” 

“Yes,” said Mary, “he may think the ground on 
which I stand is enchanted ground simply because 
I have a barrier about it that he can not get over. 
But, if I were to open the gate for him, he might 
reach the conclusion that there is no enchantment 
after all and that mere pursuit gave zest to the 
game.” 

“But, Mary, think of all his money!” 

“Oh, money! That’s another obstacle.” 

“Obstacle? You can’t mean it.” 

“But I do. There’s only one thing connected 
with money that he knows anything about and that 
is how to spend it. He never earned a dollar in his 
life, so far as I have been able to learn, but he can 
spend it fast enough. Besides, I’m not for sale.” 

“Why, Mary, you’re getting in dead earnest.” 

“Earnest? Indeed yes. I’m not certain, as yet, 
that money isn’t weakening Tom’s fiber. He is 
petted and pampered at home, and has far more 


TWO GIRLS 


9i 


money than is good for him — so much, indeed, that 
a whole bevy of girls in this town are using it and 
him for their own pleasure. Now, he has come to 
think that he can have any of those girls for the 
asking, and, as you say, it is probably true.” 

“But, Mary, you certainly don’t object to money, 
do you?” 

“Not if there is a man along. But if I must 
choose between a man and mere money, I’ll take 
the man every time. If he is a real man the money 
question will solve itself.” 

“I wonder what you mean by a real man.” 

“Well, for one thing, I do not mean a tailor- 
made creation, that disdains honest work, and is 
willing to have his parents toil and slave that he 
may simper, and pose, and flirt, and ogle susceptible 
girls, and pretend to be what he is not. The man I 
marry must have good red blood, he must be genu- 
ine through and through, he must appreciate the 
value of a dollar, and he must have the right kind 
of a great-grandfather.” 

“Great-grandfather ! And are you going to 
marry his great-grandfather, too?” 

“I must, whether I will it so or not.” 

“But, I don’t understand. You are becoming — 
what is the word?” 

“Cryptic ?” 


92 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“Yes, cryptic. You are becoming cryptic.” 

“Very well, then. Let me go back a little. I 
said a moment ago that I am not for sale, which is 
absolutely true. If I give up my fathers name and 
take another name; if I give up the life I now live 
and enter into a compact with a man for another 
kind of a life; if I give up my home and my work 
for another home and another kind of work; if I 
do all these things I am giving up many things that 
are dear to me, and my business sense teaches me 
that unless the man can give me something that is 
the full equivalent for all these I’m going to be 
cheated in the transaction, and my business instincts 
revolt at the contemplation of such a transaction. 
Besides, I’ll feel cheated throughout my whole life.” 

“Yes, I see all that,” replied Guinevere, “but I 
still don’t understand about the great-grandfather.” 

“I’m coming to him. Among the many things 
that I demand of this hypothetical man is clean an- 
cestry. If, by any chance, his great-grandfather was 
given to excesses, was a man of bad habits, there 
might be a taint of blood in the family and that 
taint might manifest itself in my children.” 

“Why, Mary, you are looking far ahead, aren’t 
you? And do you talk over such matters here in 
your home ?” 

“Yes, to both of your questions. Yes, mother 


TWO GIRLS 


93 


and I talk very freely together concerning such 
things. They are the vital things and my mother 
believes that vital matters should receive serious 
attention. We both believe in the home-grown 
variety of eugenics. Now, reverting to Tom merely 
as an illustration. Suppose I should discover in the 
course of my investigations that there is a taint in 
the blood because of excesses on the part of one of 
his ancestors, why I wouldn’t marry him if he had 
the wealth of a Croesus. I’ll never jeopardize my 
whole life for the momentary pleasure of wearing a 
bridal veil.” 

“Why, Mary,” exclaimed Guinevere, “I never 
heard a girl talk like that in my whole life.” 

“So much the worse for you,” replied Mary in all 
gentleness. “We girls should band together in a 
sort of benevolent conspiracy to protect ourselves 
and to exact from young men the same clean habits 
of living that they expect from us. If I must live 
in the same house with a man my whole life, sit 
opposite him at the table three times a day, I have a 
right to exercise large discrimination when I make 
a choice. I’m not so sure that Tom isn’t a sort of 
spoiled child with all the attentions that have been 
lavished upon him. I shouldn’t enjoy having him 
tell me, after marriage, that he could have had any 
one of a dozen girls.” 


94 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“No, of course not. But, Mary, you must admit 
that Tom is a good student.” 

“Well, I’m not so sure of that, either.” 

“But, Mary, just look at his grades.” 

“Oh, grades! They don’t tell very much about 
one. I have sometimes wondered (and Uncle 
Danny suggested this to me) whether Tom isn’t 
afflicted with academic vanity.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Well, you see, Tom likes to be popular — likes 
to be the center of the stage, as one might say, and 
high grades bring him adulation. Now, it is quite 
possible that he is diligent in his studies so as to 
achieve popularity, and not because he takes a deep 
and intelligent interest in those studies. It is just 
possible that he has more education than intelli- 
gence and that sort of man would not be a great 
comfort around the house.” 

“Mary Benton, whenever do you get time to think 
out all these things ?” 

“Why, I get it out of the same twenty-four hours 
that other people have at their disposal. It isn’t so 
much a question of time as it is the use to which 
time is put.” 

“But at our house we scarcely have time to eat. 
We seem always to be in such a hurry getting ready 
to do something.” 


TWO GIRLS 


95 


“That’s bad for the digestion, and worse for the 
soul. In this home we look forward to our meals 
as the time and the occasion for a family reunion 
and those reunions are always a delightful experi- 
ence. Meal-time with us is the best part of the day, 
and the meal amounts to a ceremony.” 

“Well, don't I know? Didn’t I have supper with 
you this evening, and didn’t I experience in this the 
real event of a lifetime?” 

“Well, Guinevere, as you saw us this evening, 
you would see us at every meal.” 

“And isn’t your mother a fine cook ?” 

“She certainly is; but, then, she is fine in every- 
thing she does.” 

“Oh, can’t I see that! And she does everything 
so serenely and yet so thoroughly !” 

“That’s mother to a nicety. She never seems hur- 
ried, never becomes flustered, is never less than 
amiable, and yet has complete mastery of every de- 
tail of this home.” 

“Mary, I saw the other day the expression ‘dig- 
nified simplicity.’ Doesn’t that fit your mother?” 

“Exactly! She is just that, and no higher trib- 
ute can be paid to any woman.” 

“Why, Mary, that mother of yours is a liberal 
education.” 

“She is indeed ! And I’ll never be able to pay my 


9 6 UNCLE DANNY'S NEIGHBORS 


debt of gratitude to her for all she is to me and 
all she has done and is still doing for me.” 

“But she doesn’t go out into society much, does 
she ?” 

“There is no need. She, herself, is society. Wher- 
ever you find mother there you will find society, 
even if she is alone.” 

“That’s another of your original ideas, Mary 
Benton.” 

“No, that’s merely another statement of truth 
about my mother. She is one of the rare women 
who are fit and agreeable company for themselves, 
which is the real test of a woman. Mother reads, 
and plays, and sings, and sews, and cooks — and 
does all of them as an intelligent person should. So 
she never becomes lonesome and never yearns for 
the often inane chit-chat of society functions. She 
does not aspire to be a purveyor of small talk. When 
she talks she says something that is worth listening 
to.” 

“Well, I know that well enough, don’t I? But 
she can enter into good fun, too.” 

“Verily, yes. She has a delicious sense of humor. 
How it ever got about that w’omen have no sense 
of humor is more than I can make out. The folks 
who circulate that report must not know such women 
as mother. Down there in the kitchen when you 


TWO GIRLS 


97 


and I were washing the dishes didn’t you notice how 
whole-heartedly she entered into that fusillade of 
badinage, raillery and persiflage?” 

“Mary Benton, stop it right now! Wherever did 
you learn so many big words? You smother me 
with them?” 

“Oh, you’ll survive ; never fear. Why, I accumu- 
late a vocabulary by reading and by talking with 
such people as father, mother and Uncle Danny. 
Besides, we make a study of words in this home, 
and make large use of the dictionary. We think 
that dowdiness in language is just as bad as dowdi- 
ness in dress. You’ll never find mother looking 
slovenly, nor father either, for that matter.” 

“That father of yours; why, he’s a joy. What 
fun we did have washing those dishes! And there 
he sat and joined in the chorus of fun. I can’t re- 
call that I ever laughed so much in my whole life.” 

“Father! Why, Guinevere, father is an institu- 
tion. He’s bed-rock; he’s fundamental. He’s the 
sort of man that ought to be put into a book. He’s a 
philosopher, a poet, a preacher, and a humorist all 
rolled into one. And when you mix all those in- 
gredients in right proportions you produce a man. 
And he always sits in the kitchen while mother and 
I wash the dishes and punctuates the talk with the 
choicest bits of philosophy and genial humor that 


98 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


makes us forget we are working. Our dish-wash- 
ing is a delightful entertainment that greatly aids 
digestion. Father often helps us wash the dishes, 
too.” 

“Your father help wash the dishes! Why, mins 
wouldn’t know where to begin. And, besides, I 
was always led to believe that the kitchen is a fit 
place only for servants.” 

“Well, you poor girl! You have missed a lot of 
fun in your life. If ever I leave this home for an- 
other the memory of our kitchen and all that it 
means to all of us will be one of my most cherished 
possessions. You had a sample of it this evening.” 

“Yes, and I liked the sample so much that I’m 
going to copy the recipe and introduce it into our 
household.” 

“Careful, careful, there, young lady. That’s a 
large contract and can’t be executed like punching a 
ticket. It will take time, possibly a long time.” 

“Oh, I know that well enough,” said Guinevere, 
“but I have a fair degree of perseverance. And be- 
fore the winter is over I’m going to hold a family 
reunion in our kitchen or something’ll snap.” 

“Something may snap in the midst of your re- 
union,” laughed Mary. 

“Yes, I know that, but just the same I’ll do it 
if I have to call you in as an assistant. The two of 


TWO GIRLS 


99 


us could bring it to pass, I’m sure. You know I’m 
taking domestic science now and that is the trap 
I’ll set for the family. When I get the run of the 
subject better I’ll agree to get supper all alone if 
papa and mama will wash the dishes. I’ll just dare 
them, and you know they would be ashamed to 
back down. I’ll let you know, so you can come in 
and catch them at it. What a time I had with mama 
about that domestic science ! Oh, she made a scene 
with the teachers and said she didn’t propose to 
have her daughter messing around with pots and 
pans. Then she went to see Uncle Danny about it, 
but she never would tell me what he said to her. 
He must have said enough, though, for mama let 
me take domestic science without a murmur and 
said it could do me no harm. I wish I could find 
out what Uncle Danny said to her. Some day I’m 
going to bake a loaf of bread and take it to Uncle 
Danny. Do you think that would be all right, 
Mary?” 

“All right? It would be more than all right, 
Guinevere. Uncle Danny will be pleased beyond 
words. Isn’t he the dearest man ever?” 

“I don’t know him very well. I wish I knew him 
better. But I have a feeling that he doesn’t care 
specially for the Smythe family.” 

“Well, that loaf of bread will cure him, and he’ll 


ioo UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


take you to his heart. I dare say that he knows 
already of your progress* in domestic science.” 

“What makes you think so?” asked Guinevere 
eagerly. 

“Oh, from little remarks he has let drop in my 
hearing from time to time. He thinks you are com- 
ing on finely.” 

“The blessed Uncle Danny !” 

“Yes, I say that every day, and many times a day. 
They say that no one is indispensable, but Uncle 
Danny seems indispensable to me. I don’t know 
how I’d ever get on without him.” 

“But, why? If I may ask.” 

“Oh, he gives me such good counsel about my 
teaching and about people as well as life in general. 
He’s so dependable, and so sane, and so understand- 
ing.” 

“A sort of father confessor?” 

“Just that! And he never fails me. When I don't 
know which course to take, he tells me and sets me 
right.” 

“Does that account for the fact that you are re- 
garded as the most sensible girl in this town ?” 

“I was not aware,” replied Mary modestly, “that 
I had gained such an enviable reputation as that.” 

“Well, you have, and that’s what makes Tom 
Foster so fond of you, I suspect.” 


TWO GIRLS 


IOI 


“Aha! That’s another one of Thomas’s weak- 
nesses that I now discover.” 

“Weaknesses? Mary Benton, I need a pencil 
and slate to figure you out. Did you say weak- 
ness?” 

“I did, indeed, and it is probably a strong weak- 
ness.” 

“Well,” said Guinevere, “I give it up. What’s 
the answer?” 

“Oh, the answer is easily given. Tom always 
aspires to the title role. He expands in the lime- 
light. If some peripatetic showman should come 
along Tom would want to lead the trick-bear through 
town for him. Oh, Thomas always wants to be 
visible. So, you see, if it has got about that I am 
a sensible girl, why I become another trick-bear and 
he would like to have it appear that he has a free? 
pass to the front parlor of this latest sensation. He 
seems quite willing to shine by reflected light, but 
I’m interested in knowing whether he is able to 
shine by his own light.” 

“So that’s what you mean by your 'internal ex- 
amination,’ is it?” 

“Just that. But, Guinevere, I’m anxious to learn 
just how you happened to know that Tom is so fond 
of me ?” 

“Innocence ! Why, every girl in this town knows 


102 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


about that. Tom. makes no secret of it, and he’s so 
full of the subject that it just spills over.” 

‘‘Oh, thou linguistic prodigy ! Where under the 
canopy did you acquire this gift of .language ?” 

“From Mary Benton, from books, and magazines, 
and from teachers. And Mary*, it is the truth that 
Tom thinks you about perfection. He calls you a 
paragon.” 

“Mercy! As bad as that?” 

“He says you have such a queenly manner and 
dress in such exquisite taste that you are good for 
the eyes.” 

“Guinevere, have you ever heard of any traces of 
insanity in Tom’s family?” 

“Mary, your words and your blushes don’t seem 
to harmonize. But, really, you just ought to hear 
Tom talk about your taste in dress. And he’s right 
about it, too. I wish I knew the secret of your 
good taste.” 

“You poor starveling! You are welcome to any 
secret that I possess on the subject of dress. When 
I write my sartorial volume I’ll dedicate it to you.” 

“Mary, have you ever heard of any traces of 
insanity in the Benton family ?” 

“Bravo!” and Mary laughed in clear ringing 
tones. “You’ll become the Sir Knight of the tourna- 
ment if this progress continues. But, while you still 


TWO GIRLS 


io 3 

deign to wear gowns and not a coat of mail, let me 
divulge my secret. I’d rather adorn a costume than 
have it adorn me. I think a girl should be better 
and greater than the gown she wears. Besides, I 
want my dress to express me. Clothing is symp- 
tomatic. If I should wear hysterical clothing, that 
would indicate a hysterical character. Some cos- 
tumes are emotional and others are thoughtful. Of 
the two I prefer the latter, so I think about my dress 
and try to make it express my thought, which is 
myself. My clothing must be neither obtrusive nor 
intrusive. I think too much of myself, my indi- 
viduality, to permit mere inanimate clothing to 
eclipse me. It must help me to self-expression, but 
must ever be subordinate to the real me. It must 
be subsidiary, merely an auxiliary.” 

“Wait a bit, Miss Encyclopedia Dictionary. I 
am drowning in the deeps of language. Have you 
no pity upon a helpless child who is struggling and 
strangling in your very presence, right before your 
eyes ?” 

“Shall we call out the life-saving crew?” asked 
Mary. 

“Do, please. But, Mary, how do you ever think 
of so many things ?” 

“Well, thinking is the real business of life. That 
being the case, it would shame me to farm out my 


104 UNCLE DANNY'S NEIGHBORS 


thinking to a dressmaker and pay her for doing 
what I can and ought to do for myself. To my 
thinking, education of the right sort tends toward 
simplicity and integrity. Believing this, I must prac- 
tise what I believe, to be honest with my own 
convictions, and my apparel must aid me in the ex- 
pression of these convictions. You applied the 
expression ‘dignified simplicity' to my mother, and 
I’d like to be worthy of the same characterization. 
So there you have the secret of my manner of life, 
so far as clothing is concerned, and what I have said 
about myself may shed some light upon my attitude 
toward Thomas Foster, Esquire." 

“I wish he could have heard all you have been 
saying to me." 

“Mercy, no! I fear he might not have survived 
my drastic surgery. I’m afraid it might have 
deflated his vanity to such an extent that he would 
never have recovered his equilibrium. What 
Thomas needs most of all is a feeling for and a 
sense of real values. He is not able to distinguish 
between major and minor. What he wants always 
seems major to him. Until he achieves this sense 
of values, he’s going to be the same airy, bombastic, 
inflated Tom that he is now. He would like to con- 
sider himself irresistible, but ’’ 

“Stop right there, Miss Mary Benton. I don’t 


TWO GIRLS 


r °5 

think it very polite for you to .say of a guest in your 
home what you have been saying about poor me.” 

“Why, Guinevere, I didn’t say a word about you ; 
or, if I did so, I did it inadvertently, and sincerely 
beg your pardon.” 

“Oh, you’re too delightful for anything. Of 
course, you didn’t say a word about me, but what 
you were saying about Tom might have been said 
about me. I know that what I lack most is a sense 
of real values, but I have been taking great strides 
forward to-night. I’m so ashamed of myself for 
thinking that my little mites of minors were all 
majors that I could cry. Take that trip that we 
made through Europe. I wish I’d never seen 
Europe.” 

“Why, Guinevere Smythe! How can you say 
such a thing? To me that seems about the most 
glorious experience any girl could have.” 

“So it might have been ; only it wasn’t. The whole 
trip is just a blur in my mind, because we spent the 
time over minors and missed all the majors. Why, 
when people keep asking me if I saw this or that in 
London, or Paris, or Rome, I want to put my hands 
over my face, or scream, or do some other outland- 
ish thing. Oh, we just bought gloves in Rome, 
that’s all.” 

“What! You didn’t see the Sistine Chapel, the 


io6 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


Forum, the Appian Way, and the other wonderful 
things in Rome? Didn’t you see Michael Angelo’s 
Moses?” 

“Not one of them, not one! I never heard of 
most of them till I got back home. Mama did speak 
of going to the Forum one day, but changed her 
mind, saying it would probably look like any other 
stone-quarry.” 

“Why, you poor child ! I never dreamed that you 
had missed all those great things. People say it is 
worth a trip across the ocean just to see the Sistine 
Ceiling.” 

“Yes, and I was buying silly gloves. But don’t 
get me started on Europe or I may become violent 
and work harm to your furniture. Oh, Mary, if 
you had only been along ! There, I am crying, aren’t 
I? Well, I just can’t help it. But, Mary, let me 
tell you a secret. The tears from this left eye are 
for Europe; but the ones from this right one are 
tears of joy because you are so good to me and have 
shown me to-night what a big-hearted, clear-headed 
girl can be and do. There, I’ll just wipe my left eye, 
but let the right one cry as much as it likes. Good 
night. But, no, wait a moment. Mary, before I go 
I wish you’d tell me what passage from literature 
best describes the sort of woman you would like 
to be.” 


TWO GIRLS 


107 


“Oh, that’s easy enough, for I quote it to myself 
every day. It was Longfellow, of course, who wrote 
it, and it is this : ‘When she had passed it seemed 
like the ceasing of exquisite music.’ Good night, 
Guinevere, and pleasant dreams.” 


CHAPTER VII 


THE HIGH-SCHOOL TEACHER 

Miss Adeline Burke taught in the high school 
and had been doing so for more years than 
she cared to recount. Enough to say that her 
teaching had to do with the second genera- 
tion and sometimes it came to pass that a furtive 
smile on the face of a pupil betokened the fact that 
the teacher was using the same educational formula 
that she had considered applicable in the case of 
the former generation. These reminiscent smiles 
and looks on the faces of her pupils utterly escaped 
Miss Burke, who continued in the utmost com- 
placency to dispense to the second generation the 
same sort of mental pabulum, served in the same 
style, which the first generation had accepted none 
too graciously. It fell out, too, that sundry books 
had descended from parents to children, in the nat- 
ural course of events, and in these books pupils found 
annotations in the hand-writing of their parents. 
With these notes they were wont to regale them- 
selves as a sort of anticipatory enjoyment of the 
teacher’s offerings for the day. 

Unconscious as Miss Burke seemed to be of the 
108 


THE HIGH-SCHOOL TEACHER 109 


furtive glances of her pupils and the clandestine 
notes that circulated among them which related to 
herself and her teaching, she was, nevertheless, at 
least sub-conscious that her status in the school was 
not what it once was, and that her tenure of position 
was, perhaps, somewhat insecure. She felt herself 
to be in a state of unstable equilibrium, but could not 
adduce any evidence. This feeling persisted until, 
at length, it occurred to her that her one hope of 
relief from the incubus of dread was Uncle Danny 
and she forthwith betook herself to his door, 
despite the drifts of snow that impeded her progress. 
Upon entering the room she observed as a pre- 
liminary : 

“The meteorological conditions are not specially 
conducive to the peregrinations of a peripatetic peda- 
gogue.” 

“Gee, ain’t it fierce !” replied Uncle Danny. 

“If you will permit me to divest myself of my 
impedimenta I should like to ask the inestimable 
privilege of holding a colloquy with the tetrarch in 
his own empery,” she continued. 

“Surest thing in the world,” said he. 

“The precipitation to-day has been of rather ab- 
normal intensity,” she further observed. 

“Ain’t it the truth?” he replied in even tones. 

“L T ncle Danny, I have braved the inclemency of 


no UNCLE DANNY'S NEIGHBORS 


the elements this evening to confer with you upon 
a matter of supreme moment." 

“Go to it.” 

“But, before I proceed, you will not take umbrage, 
I am sure, if I express surprise and sore disappoint- 
ment that one whose reputation for scholastic attain- 
ments far transcends the limits of this community 
should use language that falls so far below the 
accepted academic standards.” 

“Don't it beat the snakes?” 

“I am sure that in your heart of hearts you must 
cherish a sublime reverence for what we scholars 
recognize as academic.” 

“You bet your boots! But that word ‘academic' 
gets my goat. I am always afraid I shall misspell 
or mispronounce it.” 

“Really, I feel myself in a sort of penumbra as to 
the full significance of your words.” 

“I fear I may substitute one vowel for another,” 
said he. 

“Even yet I find my mental horizon somewhat 
beclouded.” 

“Horizons do suffer that misfortune at times. 
But, as to the portentous matter that caused you to 
desert the comforts of your own boudoir and become 
a transmigrant breasting the unsuitableness of the 


THE HIGH-SCHOOL TEACHER hi 


recent superabundant precipitation, as you so aptly 
and accurately expressed it — ” 

“Oh, thank you very much ! But, before coming 
to my major theme, let me be bold enough to sur- 
mise that you hold with me as to the inestimable 
qualities of Miss Mary Benton.” 

“Isn’t she a scream?” 

“A what ?” she flashed. 

“I mean a peach — I mean, yes, she is a bird.” 

“Such language, it seems to me, is an unfortunate 
and precipitate declension from the tenets of good 
form.” 

“Well, wouldn’t that jar you!” 

“Uncle Danny, if you persist in using such lan- 
guage I must beg the privilege of terminating this 
interview. I am not accustomed to have gentlemen, 
in my presence, use the language of the street.” 

“And may I ask what gentlemen use the sort of 
language that fits into the mold of your require- 
ments ?” 

“Well, there’s Doctor Dunlevy.” 

“Oh, yes, Dunlevy. Well, he’s quite all right.” 

“Indeed, he is. His diction is unimpeachable, his 
thoughts are lofty, and his language never descends 
from the high plane of excellence.” 

“Great stuff! But how long since you had the 


1 12 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


privilege and the pleasure of conversing with the 
brilliant and engaging young doctor?” 

“Well, it has been several weeks now.” 

“He has been taking treatment recently, and I 
think you will find him much improved.” 

“Improved ? I didn’t note any room for improve- 
ment.” 

“So? Well, if you thought him perfect a few 
weeks ago you’ll consider him a demigod now.” 

“He is altogether fascinating.” 

“I wonder,” mused Uncle Danny, “what views 
he holds on the doctrine of reciprocity ?” 

“I can not vouchsafe a reply to your interroga- 
tory, but, on general principles, it is a fair inference 
that such a distinguished scholar must maintain a 
generous attitude toward all national and inter- 
national questions. But you say he has been receiv- 
ing treatmerft — what kind of treatment?” 

“Massage.” 

“Massage? Indeed! And what was the nature 
of the malady that he should need that treat- 
ment ?” 

“Why, he was suffering from an enlargement of 
the doctorate concept and had to be treated for 
adipose academic ego,” said Uncle Danny. 

“That sounds quite dreadful, and I am acutely 
distressed. Did the treatment prove efficacious?” 


THE HIGH-SCHOOL TEACHER 113 


“Oh, quite so, and he is far along toward becom- 
ing a human being now.” 

“You do not, by any chance, happen to mean 
divine instead of human, do you?” she asked. 

“Divine tommyrot! There are no divine men, 
and I’m glad of it. If we had such things around 
they’d litter up the premises and disfigure the land- 
scape.” 

“Why, Uncle Danny! That sounds emphatically 
sacrilegious to me.” 

“Yes, it would, but facts are not changed by the 
way they sound to people. Truth and euphony are 
two very different things and the auditory nerve 
would be a poor detective to send out in search cf 
truth.” 

“You are pleased to be recondite, perhaps?” she 
suggested. 

“Recondite, nutmegs! Why, that statement is 
simple enough for the kindergarten.” 

“But you see, I’m not in the kindergarten class,” 
she replied. 

“No, worse luck. If you were you would not be 
talking about divine men. Jesus Christ was the only 
divine man and, if we men could or would imitate 
Him as a human man we’d be so busy and so happy 
that we shouldn’t have time to bother our heads 
about becoming divine. The more thoroughly 


1 14 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


human we are the nearer our approach to the great- 
ness, the simplicity, and the sublimity of Christ. If 
you had been thinking more about human men and 
less about the impossible divine ones through all the 
years that are past, you wouldn’t be here to-night on 
your present errand.” 

“And why would I not be here, and where would 
I be?” 

“At home with your husband, of course.” 

“My dear sir, it occurs to me that you presume 
too much in taking such liberties with my private 
affairs.” 

“Hoity-toity ! Didn’t your private affairs lead you 
to this place to-night?” 

“Well, candor compels me to reply in the affirma- 
tive, but I had no thought that the topic of husbands 
would be injected into the conversation.” 

“No, I suspect not, but this husband that I men- 
tioned, by way of illustration, is mythical and need 
not disturb your equipoise in the least.” 

“Mythical?” 

“Oh, well, I mean that I can neither visualize nor 
localize him at the present time. He hasn’t appeared 
upon my own horizon, however imminent he may 
be in reality. But this husband that we speak of is 
neither here nor there ; so we may as well come to 
the main issue. You came around this evening to 


THE HIGH-SCHOOL TEACHER 115 


invoke my assistance in an effort to allay the agita- 
tion of which you have become conscious, that has 
to do with your re-election for next year.” 

“Why, Uncle Danny, your prescient and perspica- 
cious percipiency, amounting almost to omniscience, 
borders upon the uncanny.” 

“There now, let us interdict the alliterative poly- 
syllabic language and descend to the plane of under- 
standable English.” 

“As to that, my dear sir, I pride myself upon my 
fluency in the use of the mother tongue.” 

“Yes, and you know it is said, on good authority, 
that pride goeth before the fall. If you are dispos- 
sessed of your position you may attribute it, in 
some good measure, to this fluency of which you 
seem to be so proud.” 

“Why, how can that be?” 

“Well, to be quite frank with you, it has got about 
in school circles that no sound enchants you quite 
so much as the sound of your own voice. Hence, 
it has come to pass that you are voluble in your 
school and monopolize the time with your fluency 
in the use of the mother tongue. Your pupils pre- 
pare their work and then have no opportunity to 
recite by reason of this self-same fluency. This 
fluency, coupled with a grandiose and oracular style, 
has become a thorn in the flesh of your pupils, and 


1 16 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


they have lodged complaints with their parents who, 
in turn, have transmitted them to the board mem- 
bers, who have passed them along to me and many 
others. So, you see, my knowledge of the entire 
affair is quite easily explained. I wish I were able 
to refute these charges of excessive fluency, but I 
am not. And now I find that you take pride in the 
very thing that your pupils complain of. Why, 
your pupils laugh over your tendency to talk when 
you think you are teaching/’ 

“What ! My pupils laugh at me ? Never !” 

“Wake up, there, Nick, and do your duty. Some- 
body has been guilty of mendacity in this town, and 
should be bitten by some upright dog as a mordant 
reminder of his grave transgression!” 

“I beg your pardon, Uncle Danny. I had no 
slightest intention of impugning your veracity, but 
was merely calling in question the reliableness of 
your information.” 

“Oh, as to that, the information is altogether 
reliable. I have overheard your pupils a dozen 
times making merry at your expense. They bubble 
over with laughter when recounting your adven- 
tures in the realms of eloquent periods. But their 
greatest fun comes from exchanging experiences 
with the pupils you had last year and discovering 
that you use the same illustrations, make the same 


THE HIGH-SCHOOL TEACHER 117 


comments, and grow expansive at the same points of 
the lesson from year to year. It seems a bit irrever- 
ent, but they characterize you as Miss Static and 
they laughingly wonder whether next year they will 
call you Miss Ex-Static.” 

“And you tolerate that sort of talk by those 
degenerate reprehensible ingrates ?” 

“Tolerate? Tolerate your grandmother’s wish- 
bone! There is no question of tolerating. Those 
youngsters talk of the things which they see and, 
therefore, know’ as naturally as they breathe. If 
they were given an opportunity to do some talking 
in the class-room they might not blow off so much 
steam on the outside. They are normal human 
beings and if the regime of your class-room doesn’t 
appeal to them they are free to say so. But you 
seem to think they should be repressed and made to 
simulate an interest that they do not feel. You have 
a large contract, Miss Burke, if you hope to recon- 
struct human nature. Those young folks are delight- 
ful because they are so spontaneous, so transparent, 
so frankly honest and sincere, and so free from guile. 
And yet you would apparently have them become 
hypocrites as a contribution to your comfort. You 
want them to conform to your ways of thinking 
and doing, but seem to think that it is not incumbent 


1 18 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


upon you to get around to their ways of thinking 
and doing. Now, with all your years ” 

“Please omit statistics, whatever other forms of 
good taste you may be inclined to violate,” she 
said, bridling. 

“Oh, very well,” said he, laughing, “ancient his- 
tory is not one of my strong points, anyhow, and I 
prefer to confine myself to current events. And 
since I seem already to have acquired a reputation 
as a violator of the proprieties I may as well go to 
the limit.” 

“As if you had not done so already,” she re- 
sponded. 

“Far from it! In fact, I have been but dallying 
about in the vestibule, and have not yet entered into 
the castle proper.” 

“Well, seeing that I have become quite indurated, 
I am curious to know what else you can possibly 
say. It will be interesting to learn how many differ- 
ent kinds of sinner I am.” 

“Quite a plenty, thank you.” 

“Would you become facetious in such a case as 
this?” 

“I could do so easily, if I thought I could set you 
to laughing.” 

“And do you think I could not laugh if there were 
only something to laugh at?” 

“Ah, there you are! If you could ever find any- 


THE HIGH-SCHOOL TEACHER 119 


thing to laugh at, your taking yourself so seriously 
before those youngsters would be abundant justifica- 
tion for uncontrollable laughter. But, even if you 
see anything to laugh at I doubt if you have anything 
left to laugh with. Your laughter glands seem to 
have been absorbed by your academic zeal. How 1 
do wish you might take a big hearty laugh with 
those glorious boys and girls! They would love 
you for it. If only the pores of your soul could 
open so that laughter might slip in, the experience 
would be better than a month’s salary. If you could 

only make some change ” 

“Change ! I have no desire to change. I’m quite 
satisfied with myself as I am/’ 

“Ah, there’s the pity of it! May the good Lord 
help all those people who are satisfied, for there is 
no other source of help that can do them any good. 
You came over here to-night calling for help, but 
want to dictate the terms upon which you will accept 
it. If you were struggling in the water, in immi- 
nent peril, you’d hardly say that you refused to be 
rescued unless the rescue boat were painted lavender. 
And yet, that’s just what you are doing now. You 
belong among those people who will be at more pains 
to justify a wrong course than to find the right one. 
If you were by way of having a modicum of acumen 
you would see that you have arrayed yourself against 
your pupils, their parents, the school board, and 


120 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


many other citizens, and are virtually saying that 
they are wrong while you are right.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, my conscience — ” 

“Oh, bother your conscience! I never can tell a 
conscience from a digestive apparatus or a liver. 
Many a person mistakes his liver for a conscience. 
Many another has an attack of indigestion and calls 
it conscientious scruples. A conscience, to be an 
asset and a reliable guide to conduct, must be an 
educated one. Common sense and the grace of God 
are the things needed to keep a conscience up to the 
mark and in good working order. I shall gladly 
concede the grace of God, to obviate discussion, and 
make you a gratuitous offering of a clean bill of 
health as to incontestable integrity, but beyond that 
I can not advance. You have been accumulating 
such vast stores of uncommon sense through all these 
— I mean in the past — that common sense has been 
crowded to the wall. If you only had as much of 
that as you have of the uncommon variety, it would 
prove an efficacious remedy for your spiritual paraly- 
sis. Here you are rushing headlong toward the cliff 
when common sense would counsel you to go in the 
opposite direction. Here you sit, stoutly maintain- 
ing your satisfaction with yourself, when common 
sense would dictate a change of attitude and poli- 
cies.” 


THE HIGH-SCHOOL TEACHER 12 1 


“Common sense would do nothing of the sort, my 
dear sir. On the contrary, common sense has been 
dictating the course I am pursuing and expect to 
pursue. Common sense told me that a successful 
teacher, first of all, must have scholarship and, as 
you very well know, I have been traveling toward 
that goal with unremitting assiduity. I have my two 
degrees and am working toward a third, and I take 
great pride in the fact that my scholarship is — ” 

“Scholarship! Oh, piffle! You have far more 
scholarship than you know how to use. The trouble 
with you is you are a non-conductor of scholarship. 
You are not able to market your product effectually. 
Your scholarship has been kept in cold storage so 
long that it has become stale and musty. It needs 
air and sunlight to glorify it and to make it potent. 
If the currents of vigorous life could only be run 
through your cold-storage plant your scholarship 
would spring into life and your pupils would catch 
the spirit and rejoice exceedingly. 

“Another trouble with you is that you. have been a 
poser so long that the pose has encompassed and 
encased you till now it is doubtful if you have 
vitality sufficient to break through the crust and come 
forth where people are and where real and abound- 
ing life is. You have posed so long that no longer 
do you walk, or talk, or think, or act as a normal 


122 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


human being should do. You can’t have any fun. 
Indeed, there is no such thing as good fun for you, 
and when your pupils are having good wholesome 
fun, as all healthy young people should do, you take 
exception to them and apply opprobrious epithets to 
them. You' are such a devotee at the shrine of your 
own illusions that your spiritual insight is distorted 
and thus all people, your pupils included, seem wrong 
to you.” 

“Just a moment, if you please, Uncle Danny,” she 
interrupted. “Is there to' be no end to this meaning- 
less cant and feckless twaddle?” 

“Nick, Nick,” cried Uncle Danny, “arouse your- 
self and take cognizance of passing events. Why, 
Nick, your uncle is a blot upon the fair name of 
this town, for he has so far forgotten the proprieties 
and his own dignity as to descend to feckless twad- 
dle. Nick, can’t you shed just a tear or two over 
the ruins of your lamented Uncle Danny?” 

As Uncle Danny indulged in this outburst of rail- 
lery he watched the face of his auditor to note the 
presence of any incipient smile that might, by any 
chance, light up her immobile countenance, but he 
watched in vain. Her face remained as calm and 
stolid as the face of the Sphinx, and he could not 
repress the silent prayer, “Father, forgive them for 
they know not what they do.” 

After an interval of complete and somewhat omi- 


THE HIGH-SCHOOL TEACHER 123 


nous silence Uncle Danny continued in subdued 
tones, “Miss Burke, I have yearned toward you for 
many moons and still da; but you seem obdurate. I 
suspect that you are joined to your idols and, per- 
haps, no mere verbal earthquake could ever jar you 
loose from your complacent moorings. You are an 
accomplished actress, and the part you have so long 
played has become yourself. You have striven to 
have people believe you something bigger and better 
than you really are, and have tried to make all your 
teaching contribute to this end. Instead of making 
teaching a simple process of setting forth the truth 
you have made it as complex as possible, hoping 
thereby to win greater credit to yourself. You go 
so far as to turn simple subjects upside down to 
make them appear the more complex. Directness, 
clearness, simplicity — these are qualities that do not 
appeal to you. Your pupils have discovered the 
actress and are now repudiating you. You spoke 
of Mary Benton, when you came in. I wish you 
could go to school to that fine girl.” 

“What! Go to school to Mary Benton? Don’t 
you know that she was one of my pupils, and that I 
taught her about all she knows?” 

“Belay there!” cried Uncle Danny. “You are 
exceeding the speed limit. Mary Benton knows a 
lot of things that neither you nor the school ever 
taught her. That’s another trouble with you. You 


124 


UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


would claim credit for what the Lord has done 
through the agency of sensible parents. The best 
things that go to make up Mary Benton were never 
acquired in your class-room, and those are the very 
things I would have you learn from her. She is 
open-minded, responsive, natural, and sincere — the 
very qualities that would make you a better woman 
and a better teacher. If you were such a teacher 
as she there would be no talk of displacing you. Her 
pupils are fond of her, and that because she is fond 
of them. You seem to think that, because she was 
once a pupil of yours, you will always be her supe- 
rior. But that is a delusion.” 

“Permit me to observe,” she replied curtly, “that 
I did not come in this evening to hear you rhapso- 
dize over Miss Benton. I know she has many excel- 
lent qualities, but I can not think that she is more 
than human.” 

“No, indeed,” rejoined Uncle Danny, “thank the 
good Lord, nor yet less than human, I am glad to 
say. She is a wholesome, normal human being, and 
that’s the best that can be said of her. I’m wonder- 
ing whether, in your classification of people, only 
those of the male persuasion ever reach the plane 
of the divine.” 

“By the way, Uncle Danny, that reminds me of 
Doctor Dunlevy. You said he has been taking treat- 


THE HIGH-SCHOOL TEACHER 125 


ment. I wonder if you will not supply fuller details 
of that treatment.” 

“Well, I am somewhat reluctant to do so, since 
I was present during the process. In fact, that treat- 
ment was administered in this very room. I might 
also say that the ordeal was far less severe than the 
one to which you have been subjected. It is worthy 
of note, also, that the patient responded to the 
treatment far more graciously than the present one. 
But, then, I do not lose sight of the fact that the 
Doctor is still young.” 

“Sir?” 

“I beg your pardon, but, for the nonce, I was 
forgetting about the forbidden ground. What I 
was trying to say was that he is still in the plastic 
state — ” 

“Sir?” 

“A thousand pardons! I seem to be losing my 
bearings in the use of words.” 

“Speaking of Doctor Dunlevy, Uncle Danny, I 
think your encomiums are quite superfluous. I have 
the highest esteem and even admiration for the 
Doctor and have even cherished the hope — but never 
mind about that. I must now be going. I thank 
you for your time, but for nothing else that now 
occurs to me. Good night.” 

“Good night, Miss Burke. You are quite wel- 


2 6 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


come, I assure you, to my time, and to all the rest. 
Good night.” 

Standing before the fire in quiet contemplation. 
Uncle Danny at length said, “Nick, you ought to be 
thankful that you are a dog and, therefore, not sub- 
ject to the truancy laws. How would you like to go 
to school to that? Say, Nick, we are on the decline. 
We have lost our cunning. We have failed utterly. 
But, let us not give ourselves up as utterly hopeless. 
Let us have courage. Perhaps, the next one who 
comes for treatment may not be one of the perverse 
and stiff-necked kind and may be a bit more recep- 
tive. Let us hope.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE PREACHER 

Uncle Danny was a communicant of the church 
which the Reverend Simeon Borland served as pas- 
tor. This was Mr. Borland’s initial charge and the 
second year of his pastorate. He was a thoroughly 
devout young man, zealous for the advancement of 
the cause he served, a diligent student of doctrines, 
and, withal, a zealous expounder of the doctrines he 
studied. But, with all these qualities, there was still 
an evident lack of some quality that many of his 
parishioners thought ought to inhere in a pastor. 
There was an air of detachment about him that 
forbade intimate associations and friendships. He 
seemed to be conscious that he had been set apart 
and, therefore, always conscious of his clerical func- 
tions. He was, apparently, so engrossed in his 
duties as a clergyman that he was but vaguely cog- 
nizant of the movements of the social organism. He 
seemed eager to have the members of his flock learn 
his language, but was at no pains to learn theirs. 
He gave rather listless assent to their verbal offer- 
ings while the focus of his attention seemed else- 
127 


128 UNCLE DANNY'S NEIGHBORS 


where. They liked him but inwardly wished that 
they might contrive some additions to his many 
good qualities. 

He and Uncle Danny were good friends and 
exchanged calls but, somehow, the knowledge had 
failed to penetrate his mind that Uncle Danny was 
a clergyman until he was well along in his second 
year. He knew, of course, that Uncle Danny was a 
professor in the college, and as such he had a high 
regard for him, but he had never associated him with 
the work of a pastor. This knowledge came to him, 
therefore, with something of a shock. There was a 
wedding in one of the families of his congregation, 
and he received an invitation as a matter of course. 
But no mention was made touching the matter of his 
officiating. Since this might be a mere oversight he 
made due preparation for the event as if his per- 
forming the ceremony were a foregone conclu- 
sion. His consternation exceeded all bounds, there- 
fore, when he saw the contracting parties come 
face to face, beneath the floral arch, with Uncle 
Danny, who proceeded with the ceremony as if to 
the manner born. 

In a trice he felt himself to be in a sort of mael- 
strom of conflicting emotions, whose relative impor- 
tance he could not accurately appraise. He was 
surprised beyond words to see Uncle Danny per- 


THE PREACHER 


129 


forming the ceremony with so much dignity and 
facile grace. He was chagrined, deeply so, to find 
himself supplanted in the home of his parishioners, 
with no previous word of explanation or apology. 
And he was embarrassed, too, to find that he had 
been preaching through all the preceding months in 
the presence of one of his own craft. Then the im- 
pression came into his consciousness that his people 
had dealt less than fairly with him in not revealing 
to him Uncle Danny’s identity. All in all, the event 
did not at all measure up to the limits of his antici- 
pations, and his abstraction was quite evident. His 
congratulations were of the perfunctory sort, and 
he failed to do full justice to the wedding repast. 

The entire affair cast him into a sort of daze, and 
gave him the feeling that something sinister and 
inexplicable had invaded his clerical calm. Try as 
he might, he could not rid himself of the feeling 
that he was the victim of untoward influences, and 
this feeling grew upon him as he anticipated the 
services of the following Sunday. Of course, Uncle 
Danny would be there — he never failed — and, of 
course, he must show no perturbation in the per- 
formance of his duties. At one time he was tempted 
to ask Uncle Danny to preach for him, but dismissed 
that at once as not the proper solution of his 
perplexity. So he continued to brood over the mat- 


1 3 o UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


ter, with consequent loss of sleep and appetite, until 
on Friday evening he took himself in hand and 
forced himself into the presence of Uncle Danny. 
The matter could become no worse whatever befell 
and he experienced a faint glimmering of hope that 
Uncle Danny might, in some way, afford relief from 
the strain. 

“Come in, come right in,” said Uncle Danny, with 
a heartiness that warmed the cockles of his heart 
at once and brought a flush of pleasure to his face. 
“Sit down in that easy chair and let’s have a good 
old-fashioned confab. I was just wishing some con- 
genial soul would drop in and help me to relax. 
Friday evening is my time for relaxation, and that 
is a game that two can play at better than one if 
they are rightly attuned. I’m keyed up pretty well 
during the week with my teaching, my faculty work, 
and the other odds and ends that absorb my time, 
and so on Friday evening I like to do something 
different.” 

“But pray, Uncle Danny,” inquired the visitor, 
“what method of relaxation would you have used 
if I had not come in?” 

“Oh, as to that,” said Uncle Danny, “I was simply 
ruminating when I heard your footsteps and had no 
definite plans for the evening. In half an hour or 
so I should probably have got hold of some novel 


THE PREACHER 


131 

that suited my mood and pored over its pages till 
bed-time, possibly late bed-time, according to the 
influence of the book in hand.” 

“You are a‘ reader of fiction, then?” 

“Oh, yes, indeed, gloriously so. Why, in the 
matter of fiction I am positively intemperate.” 

“You? And you a college professor and also a 
clergyman, and still read novels, and, as you say, 
to excess?” 

“Steady, now, Brother Borland! I did not say 
to excess for I do not know the content of the word 
when applied to the reading of good fiction.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, in my work I find so much 
else that I feel I need for spiritual nourishment and 
refreshment that I find neither time nor inclination 
for the reading of fiction.” 

“So, I dare say,” Uncle Danny replied, “you read 
books on theology.” 

“Why, certainly.” 

“Now, don’t think me irreverent or iconoclastic, 
but let me recommend the reading of Patent Office 
Reports or such like literature for a change, if your 
scruples disdain fiction.” 

“Why, Uncle Danny, you surprise me.” 

“Well, I have surprised quite a few people in my 
time, by all accounts. But a really big surprise is 
wholesome medicine, sometimes. By the way, you 


1 32 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


have your sermon written for Sunday morn- 
ing?” 

“To be sure, or I should be at it now.” 

“So I thought. Well, then, let me ask about how 
many times, in that sermon, do you use the expres- 
sion ‘unsearchable riches’ ?” 

“Really, Uncle Danny, you seem endowed with 
the power of divination.” 

“Not a bit of it. But what led to that remark ?” 

“Well, to be frank, I do use that expression sev- 
eral times in my sermon, now that you remind me.” 

“Of course you do. It is a habit with you, a 
habit you contracted in the seminary, and a habit 
that is not easy to break. I know from experience. 
In the course of my own work in the seminary, I, 
too, made quite a large collection of those theologi- 
cal bromides and I dispensed them from the sacred 
desk with lavish prodigality. Then, at last, like the 
Prodigal, I came to myself in a far country, and 
realized that I was giving at least a good imitation 
of sounding brass and tinkling cymbal and, forth- 
with, I proceeded to vaccinate myself for theologi- 
cal bromidism. It was not easy to do but I knew it 
had to be done unless I would give my hearers men- 
tal dyspepsia.” 

“Permit an interruption, Uncle Danny. I do not 
know what you mean by mental dyspepsia.” 


THE PREACHER 


133 


“Well, you will recall Mark Antony's speech 
over Caesar’s body. When he first called Brutus 
and Cassius honorable men the crowd hurrahed for 
those two worthies. Then he used the same expres- 
sion again but the applause was not quite so noisy. 
He continued to use it, again and again, until the 
people became so tired of hearing it reiterated that 
they got mad and chased those chaps out of town. 
They had mental dyspepsia, nothing less.” 

“But the expression I use had a high and noble 
meaning.” 

“That matters not at all. Quail is regarded as a 
great delicacy. But the man who essayed the task 
of eating a quail a day for a month was heartily 
sick of his bargain and of quail long before the 
month was gone. The mental palate as well as the 
physical craves variety and will not brook the same 
bill of fare day after day. Why, the Israelites lost 
their taste for manna even and that you know was 
a celestial dish.” 

“So you think, Uncle Danny, that my expression 
is proving as unpalatable as quail or manna?” 

“Not being a food specialist, I can not say, but I 
can readily conceive that such might be the case. 
You see, if your people can anticipate what you will 
say each Sunday, they may elect to stay at home 
and try to worry along with the phonograph.” 


134 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


‘‘Some of them do.” 

“Possibly for that very reason,” Uncle Danny 
said, smiling. 

“But your logic doesn’t work in your own case, 
for you are always there,” replied Mr. Borland. 

“I was hoping you wouldn't mention that fact, 
for I didn’t want to tell you that I often go from a 
sense of duty and not because the preaching lures 
me out in spite of myself. I could often get more 
spiritual nourishment from other sources than I get 
from your sermons. That cuts pretty close, my 
boy, but you forced me to say it.” 

“Pray don’t apologize, Uncle Danny, for you are 
giving me spiritual nourishment right now in great 
abundance. But why didn’t the professors at the 
seminary ever put us on our guard against the very 
things you tell me of?” 

“Why, if I may put it so, because they have more 
religion than Christianity. The study of doctrine 
has dried up the sources and fountains of fertility 
in them. No one ever speaks of Christ’s religion 
but He is the source, the embodiment, and exempli- 
fication of Christianity. If those seminary profes- 
sors would teach Christ and the Bible instead of 
men’s opinions their students would be better off. 
They remind me of some teachers who haven’t time 
to teach Shakespeare, because they spend all their 
time teaching the editor’s notes.” 


THE PREACHER 


135 


“I see the distinction clearly, Uncle Danny, and 
thank you for the enlightenment. But that leads me 
to remark that services must be abandoned in our 
church next Sunday because the pastor is incapaci- 
tated. Either that, or I’ll have to employ some 
means to keep you here at home.” 

“Neither the one nor the other, my dear boy.” 

“What then? You can’t think that I’d have the 
temerity to try to preach that sermon with you in 
the audience, can you?” 

“I get your point of view,” said Uncle Danny, 
“but there is still another phase that is worth con- 
sidering.” 

“I shall be glad to hear it, you may be sure.” 

“Well, I have traveled the road over which you 
are now traveling and my experiences have gen- 
erated large sympathy with the younger men. Hence, 
I advise you to preach the sermon as you had 
planned and later on we can go over it together to 
determine wherein it might be improved.” 

“Will you do that?” 

“Why, of course.” 

“Good ! You have saved a drowning man, and he 
is properly grateful. But, what about Sunday 
evening ?” 

“Well, as to that, you might arrange a service 
of song interspersed with remarks by a half dozen 
people whom you will apprise in advance.” 


136 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“You are thinking of cooperation, I take it.” 

“Yes, and that will be good for the church. The 
people don’t have enough to do and they become 
spiritually lethargic in consequence.” 

“Very well, I see that. And then about the next 
Sunday? Let’s have your entire prescription.” 

“Aha! You are becoming greedy. Young man, 
I didn’t undertake to manage the church for the 
remainder of the year.” 

“No, but you inaugurated this theological normal 
course, and you ought to be sufficiently interested in 
your own enterprise to see it through.” 

“Well,” said Uncle Danny with a hearty chuckle, 
“your proposition does seem fair even if it does im- 
pose upon me more responsibility than I had antici- 
pated. But, if you take my medicine you must 
prepare for a busy time all next week.” 

“Very well, Mr. Physician. I think the tonic of 
this evening will invigorate me. Now, what’s the 
program ?” 

“In the first place, you’ll have to arrange for a 
second song service for the evening, for one ser- 
mon is all you’ll have time for. Did you ever preach 
from the text ‘Except ye become as little children’ ?” 

“No, I never did. But, why?” 

“Well, that’s to be your text; and by way of illus- 
tration you will read Old Curiosity Shop so as to 


THE PREACHER 


137 


absorb Little Nell, Bleak House for Little Joe, and 
A Christmas Carol for Tiny Tim. Then, while you 
are resting, you will commit to memory 'Little Boy 
Blue’ and ‘There, Little Girl, Don’t Cry.’ After 
you get all that done and have prepared your ser- 
mon you will read Polly anna just to put a good 
taste in your heart for Sunday morning.” 

“Is that all? Well, let us hope there may be no 
weddings next week. Cupid ought to take a vaca- 
tion till the pastor catches up with his work.” 

“Wake up, there, Nick, you’re missing a good 
thing here. You should arouse yourself and help 
Uncle Danny celebrate this important occasion. 
We have discovered a preacher who is willing to 
read books, yea even novels, yea even Dickens for 
the glory of God and the good of men’s souls.” 

“A very good peroration, Uncle Danny. But, 
before I go home to enter upon the very ambitious 
program that you have arranged for me, I shall be 
glad to have you give me any other precepts that 
you have lurking about you that you may think 
applicable to myself or my work.” 

“Nick,” Uncle Danny cried, “thou sluggish mem- 
ber of the canine tribe, why didn’t you come alive, 
and chase this reverend man out of the house before 
he clamored for further treatment?” 

“Never mind, Nick,” responded Mir. Borland, 


138 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“better lie still and be at peace. There is enough 
disturbance hereabout without any assistance from 
you. Besides, this reverend man is here to -stay until 
he has undergone the complete ordeal of expurga- 
tion. See, Uncle Danny, I have a tight hold upon 
the arms of this chair; now do your worst.” 

“Oh, the worst is over, I hope. If you eliminate 
the vain repetitions in your sermons you will do the 
same in your prayers.” 

“Do I do that, too?” 

“Oh, lamentably so.” 

“Please specify.” 

“Well, in your prayers, you repeat the name of 
the Deity, over and over. It is a mere habit, and 
yet it causes the attentive listener to feel that the 
Lord is not hearkening to your petitions and that 
you are reminding Him that you are still address- 
ing Him. If you were having a heart to heart 
talk with me you would not utter my name in every 
third sentence. If you did, and some one should 
overhear you, he would infer that I was not listen- 
ing and might be trying to escape and that you 
were trying to hold me and my attention.” 

“The culprit pleads guilty to the charge. Any- 
thing else?” 

“Yes, there are some other things connected with 
your prayers that have claimed my attention. In 


THE PREACHER 


139 


common with many others, you often seem to be 
intent upon giving the Lord information and yet 
you claim to believe in His omniscience. This has 
led me to wonder often whether you are not more 
acutely conscious of the presence of the people than 
you are of the presence of the Lord.” 

“Uncle Danny, as an analytic philosopher you are 
a distinct success. Besides, you are not utterly 
devoid of surgical skill. But, what else, now that I 
am in the way of becoming inured to your treat- 
ment?” 

“Well, I was irreverent enough to count the other 
Sunday, and I found that you used the word 
‘bless' twenty-seven times in your morning prayer.” 

“Well, what can be the objection to that aside 
from the matter of repetition?” 

“I could waive the repetition, if I could only 
think that you know what the word means. I have 
asked many a clergyman to give a definition of the 
word but have failed, so far, to receive a satisfac- 
tory answer. It seems quite inexplicable, there- 
fore, that you or any other man would use, in a 
brief prayer, a word twenty-seven times that you 
could not define if you were challenged for a defini- 
tion. It is one of those vague words that creep into 
our habit of speaking that seem to relieve us of 
the trouble of thinking. I know a preacher who 


i 4 o UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


never fails to pray that we may all be humble, but 
I am sure he doesn’t mean it, for if the Lord should 
answer that prayer for him it would make a great 
change in his manner of life. I have rarely seen a 
man who is more egotistic, bombastic, and oracular, 
and I have often wondered how the good Lord 
would set about it to reduce him to a condition or 
state of humility. I have often wondered whether 
repetition of Job’s troubles wouldn’t be required to 
bring the answer to his prayer. You know the hymn 

'Prayer is the soul’s sincere desire 
Uttered or unexpressed, 

The motion of a hidden fire 
That trembles in the breast. 

'Prayer is the burden of a sigh, 

The falling of a tear, 

The upward glancing of an eye 
When none but God is near.’ 

Now this hymn seems to teach us that prayer is a 
sincere aspiration; certainly it is not oratory.’’ 

"Just a moment, Uncle Danny; I’m needing a 
little time for mental mastication. You are giving 
me a rather hearty diet and my powers of assimila- 
tion are more limited than I had been made aware 


THE PREACHER 


141 

of. You say that prayer is aspiration. Would you 
say, then, that aspiration is prayer?” 

“Indeed, yes. Oh, that reminds me: there is 
another novel you must read quite soon. The title is 
John Percy field. I hope you’ll read it so as to make 
the acquaintance of the author, C. Hanford Hender- 
son. In another book he says it is immoral for any 
one to do less than his best. That’s another ration 
that you’ll need to chew on. Well, at any rate, the 
best part of you and me is the divine essence within 
us and our business on earth is to develop that divine 
principle to the utmost, so that it may come to dom- 
inate and direct every thought and every act of our 
life. Prayer, therefore, is the yearning out of this 
divine part of us for higher, greater, and better 
things. Hence, every fervent aspiration is a prayer. 
Besides, we help answer our own prayers.” 

“Hold a bit, there, Uncle Danny,” interrupted 
Mr. Borland. “That seems a strong statement and 
I fear I must part company with you if you adhere 
to it.” 

“Not a bit of it. This duet of thinking is just get- 
ting under way. This divine principle we speak of 
is a part of God and our aspiration is an emanation 
from that divine part of us and serves to enlarge 
and strengthen that principle. So when we aspire 
earnestly we inevitably act in the line of our own 


142 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


prayers. Prayer serves to give the Lord the right 
of way and He works by means of the divine 
essence within us. If I yearn and yearn for a state 
of mind I’ll surely strive the more diligently to attain 
that state.” 

“Yes, Uncle Danny, I see that now. If I get to 
yearning to know Tiny Tim, I’ll read the book.” 

“Just so. Then multiply that by a thousand and 
the product spells growth, and the divine principle 
will dominate the life.” 

“Oh, I see it, and am eager to set about answering 
some of my prayers. But, really, I must be going 
unless you have some further admonitions you’d 
like to dispense.” 

“Well,” and Uncle Danny hesitated as if debating 
with himself, “I’d get a sack-coat if I were you.” 

“What! You would make a bob-tailed preacher 
of me, would you? But why, pray?” 

“For the moral and spiritual effect.” 

“There, now, I’m lost in the profundities again.” 

“No profundity about it — just alphabet teaching, 
or the fives of the multiplication table.” 

“Well, then, I must be one of the retarded pupils 
we are hearing so much about.” 

“Very well, sonny; the primer class will recite. 
Here, then, is the sartorial philosophy in a nut- 
shell. Wearing that long-tailed coat all the week is 


THE PREACHER 


143 


too much of a strain on any man. It saps his vital- 
ity. A clerical coat keeps you keyed up to clerical 
pitch all the while, and you never have a chance to 
relax and become an every-day human being. When 
you go about among your parishioners clad in that 
outfit they feel that they ought to stop work and 
recite the golden text. You must learn to speak their 
language, to know their feelings, to enter into their 
plans, and you can’t succeed very well in a clerical 
costume. You inspire the feeling in them that you 
are conscious of your superiority, and so they can’t 
talk freely to you or with you, and they will not lay 
their hearts bare to you, as they must do if you are 
to be of the greatest service to them.” 

“I take it, then, Uncle Danny, that you would have 
the white necktie accompany the clerical coat to 
oblivion during the week?” 

“By all means. If you go out to see one of your 
farmer members you will win him if you take part 
in the work in which he is engaged and your white 
tie will not comport with the work of the farm. 
And his soul is of more importance than your gear ; 
so you’d better adopt the sort of gear that will prove 
the best bait for his soul. If you go into some 
humble home and find the mother weeping over a 
sick baby you want to feel free to lend a hand at once 
without fear of soiling your clothes. If you rock 


144 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


the baby while she washes the neglected dishes her 
faith in you and what you represent will be greatly 
strengthened. Then, when the baby recovers she’ll 
come to church and bring some of the neighbors 
with her.” 

“Uncle Danny, there is one lowly and subdued 
preacher in this town who is going to moult his 
white necktie next Monday morning.” 

“Very good. And, in that case, here endeth the 
lesson.” 

“Just a moment. Let’s see whether I can recapitu- 
late the main points of the lesson aforesaid. I’m 
to refrain from repetitions — no matter how sonor- 
ous and noble the words may be — quail and manna. 
I must refrain from trying to enlighten the Lord as 
to mundane affairs. I must either be able to define 
the word ‘bless’ or else delete it. I must distinguish 
between religion and Christianity, preaching Christ 
rather than the opinions of theologians. I must 
learn that poetical definition of prayer and practise 
it, also, praying to the Lord and not at or to the 
people. Then I must take an active part in helping 
answer my own prayers. Finally, brethren, I must 
shed my elongated coat and white tie and become a 
human being so as to be a fit companion for other 
human beings.” 

“Very well done and you have proved a very apt 


THE PREACHER 


145 


pupil. I now take great pleasure in promoting you 
to the next higher grade. And let me add that 
pupils of that grade have permission to go fishing 
with me or take rambles when the weather is suit- 
able/' 

“Oh, is that the school in which you have learned 
all your philosophy ?” 

“Yes, and that school takes very high rank. In 
that school one learns of space, of sky, of stars, 
and the other big things. One brushes cob-webs and 
dust from one’s soul in that school and so becomes a 
communicant at the shrine of Nature and is able to 
feel what the Psalmist means by his words, 'The 
heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament 
showeth His handiwork.’ ” 

“Uncle Danny, 'whither thou goest I will go’ 
just to sit at your feet and learn. Good night.” 


CHAPTER IX 

THE COLLEGE STUDENT 

Tom Foster came breezing into Uncle Danny’s 
study one evening as nonchalantly as if he were re- 
sponding to an urgent invitation — all expenses de- 
frayed. Tom was a bounding sort of chap, alto- 
gether sure of himself, and always as airy as if he 
were conscious that he was playing foot-ball with 
the world all the while and winning every game. He 
was so accustomed to success in carrying off situa- 
tions with his father, his mother, his classmates, 
and, truth to tell, with the young women of the col- 
lege that not unlike that other Tommy, the Senti- 
mental one, he felt himself to be masterful if not 
altogether irresistible. He was by way of being a 
sort of arresting imperative incarnate and would 
have felt flattered to hear any one thus describe him. 
He had a way of projecting himself into situations 
as if by right of eminent domain but with the quali- 
fication that he deemed the obligation to be in his 
favor. Thus he came into Uncle Danny’s study on 
this particular evening with the air of proprietor, as 
if he were doing a distinct honor to the house and 
146 


THE COLLEGE STUDENT 


147 


all its inhabitants by consuming some of his valu- 
able time in making a call. 

But Uncle Danny’s philosophy had taught him a 
thing or two and he knew that Tom’s airiness con- 
cealed something of vital import and he sensed the 
fact that the visit had to do, somehow, with Mary 
Benton. It soon developed that his surmises were 
founded on fact, for Tom had never learned the 
art of leading up to a subject by degrees nor of 
preparing the soil for the seed he was proposing to 
sow. He was too direct, and too sure of himself 
for anything savoring of circumlocution. And yet 
he did not find it easy to state his case. The bold 
statement of his infatuation for Mary did not seem 
to him to comport with accepted standards, and to 
give a recital of Mary’s apparent indifference to his 
advances would have caused a wrench to his self- 
assurance. Hence he felt rather than thought that, 
face to face with his dilemma, it would be the part 
of discretion to walk softly, especially since he knew 
of Uncle Danny’s high estimation of Mary, and 
also his keenness in appraising delicate situations. 

However, he finally managed to say with apparent 
irrelevancy, “Uncle Danny, I suspect you have no- 
ticed or, at least, have heard that I am very much 
interested in Miss Mary Benton.” 

“So am I,” Uncle Danny quickly responded. 

“Yes, but not in the same way.” 


148 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 

“Possibly not,” said Uncle Danny, “but in the 
quality and depth of my interest, I yield to none.” 

“No, of course not, Uncle Danny, but granting 
all you say, you still can’t marry her.” 

“Certainly not; can you?” 

“Check!” ejaculated Tom. “You understand the 
game of chess, Uncle Danny?” 

“Yes, amateurishly; enough to know your word 
‘check.’ ” 

“Anyhow, Uncle Danny, you do certainly bring 
a fellow to a standing position with your direct and 
pointed question.” 

“That was the intention; but you haven’t an- 
swered the question yet.” 

“Well, no; so far as I can make out at the pres- 
ent I can’t marry her; but, I assure you, it is from 
no fault of mine.” 

“Whose fault then?” 

“Hers.” 

“Why, the obstinate baggage ! Whatever can she 
be thinking of? Here is a fine-looking young man 
who is rich, popular, a good student, in great de- 
mand, and yet, in her intractable pertinacity, she 
does not give assent to his highly complimentary 
request.” 

“Uncle Danny, are you laughing at me?” Tom 
asked. 


THE COLLEGE STUDENT 


149 


"Not at all. I am merely reading your mind. In 
reviewing the elements of your eligibility I dare 
say you have included all the things I have men- 
tioned and many others. Am I not right ?” 

"Yes, you are quite right; I have. But, is there 
a single item in the list that you would strike out?” 

"Yes, riches,” replied Uncle Danny. 

"But we are rich, Uncle Danny.” 

"We are not speaking of plural people but of the 
singular you.” 

‘“But it is all the same, for I shall inherit my 
father’s money as well as his business.” 

"Tom,” said Uncle Danny with deliberation, "it 
may seem all the same to you, but it may not seem 
so to Mary. You are placing your prospects in the 
column of assets, but she may be thinking of them 
as liabilities.” 

"How can she?” Tom asked. 

"Because she is Mary Benton.” 

"But, Uncle Danny, waiving for the moment 
your enigmatical language and its real import, 
whatever that is, don’t you see that I am in position 
to lift Mary up and out of the drudgery of school- 
teaching and give her the place in society for which 
she is so well fitted?” 

"Just a moment, Tom. I think you are getting 
your directions somewhat mixed. When a young 


150 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


man, even Thomas Foster, gets to thinking of lifting 
Mary Benton up, he is taking on a pretty large con- 
tract.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, you know what I mean. She 
ought not to be wearing her life out teaching 
school.” 

“But why not?” Uncle Danny asked. 

“Why, she’s too fine for that.” 

“Oho! So that’s your idea? Then, only the 
coarse ones should teach school? Suppose you 
were the father of children. What sort of teacher 
would you want for them?” 

“Why, the best to be had, of course.” 

“Certainly, certainly. Now r , Tom, let’s go back a 
bit. You say Mary is too fine to be teaching school; 
what is she fine enough for?” 

“She ought to be the queen of a home,” responded 
Tom. 

“Exactly, and I heartily agree. Now, let’s follow 
up this queen figure of yours just a little. The home 
would be her palace. Isn’t that your idea?” 

“Most assuredly,” and Tom was quite emphatic. 

“Very well; we now have the palace and the 
queen. What else do we need to complete the pic- 
ture ?” 

“Check-mate! Uncle Danny, if you are merely an 
amateur at this game of chess, I beg to be excused 


THE COLLEGE STUDENT 


151 

from playing with a professional. So, you think I 
might not fill the role of king in a palace to the sat- 
isfaction of all parties concerned, do you? ,, 

“Down brakes! Your Royal Highness, I said 
nothing of the sort. That was your own suggestion. 
I merely furnished the opportunity. But since you 
did suggest it, let’s follow the matter a bit further. 
Just a moment ago you were talking of lifting Mary 
up from somewhere to somewhere else. I dare say 
your fiction has taught you to think of her as a 
star of the first magnitude and the brighest star in 
the galaxy just as it suggested some one as the 
queen of the home. Those are very alluring con- 
ceits and very fittingly apply to Mary Benton. But 
this star of yours seems, by your own account, to be 
a fallen star for she has descended to the lowly 
drudgery of teaching school. So you are another 
Lochinvar who is bent upon rescuing the fair and 
unfortunate maiden and setting her upon a throne 
in a palace in some enchanted land. Only you are 
going to transport her in an expensive automobile, 
and fit out her palace with velvet carpets, lace cur- 
tains, mahogany furniture, the rarest china — and 
then point out all the glories with which you have 
surrounded her and tell her how thankful and happy 
she ought to be to have a husband whose father is 
willing to lavish so much money upon his son, to 


152 UNCLE DANNY'S NEIGHBORS 


use in trying to buy happiness for his wife. That’s 
just what I meant when I said that Mary might 
regard your father’s money as a liability.” 

“And again I say, Uncle Danny, that I can’t 
understand that view of the matter. Every girl 
wants a nice home, good clothes, and the means for 
entertaining her friends. Then, how can money 
prove a liability?” 

“Tom, you have asked a difficult question, and 
I’m not certain that I can interpret Mary’s view- 
point clearly, but I’ll try. As you say, Mary is fine, 
so fine indeed, that mere material things can not 
and do not satisfy her conception of life. She is so 
fine that life means far more than furniture, car- 
pets, curtains, and china. She looks upon all such 
things as a means and not an end. She thinks of 
all such things as subordinate to the real essence of 
life. She would scorn the thought of marrying 
for a home, or for rich raiment, or for the means of 
entertaining her friends. She yearns to be able to 
entertain her friends with her mental and spiritual 
gifts without the aid of material garnishments.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, you must admit that she 
gives much care to her personal appearance and is 
always becomingly attired.” 

“I grant you that, Tom, but I happen to know 
that it costs her far less to dress well than it does 


THE COLLEGE STUDENT 


U3 


others to appear dowdy, just because she uses cloth- 
ing to help self-expression. She is sincere, and, 
therefore, her wardrobe must express sincerity. 
Anything that is bizarre or spectacular jars upon 
her fine nature. That’s just the place where she 
has an interrogation point over you. She is won- 
dering whether you are not inclined to use money 
for show purposes and whether your wealth may 
not contribute more and more to vanity and super- 
ficiality. She distinguishes to a nicety between a 
sincere man and a harlequin or a merry-andrew.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, she certainly can’t object to 
my dressing in good taste, can she? She doesn’t 
yearn to have me look like a tramp, I hope.” 

“There, Tom, I was afraid I might not be able 
to make myself understood. Let me try again by 
making a personal application. Your creed tells 
you that clothes make the man and you live up to 
that creed punctiliously. Mary’s creed says that 
the man makes the clothes and these creeds, as you 
will readily see, are antipodal. To Mary a suit of 
overalls seems a king’s robe when she discovers a 
real man inside, while the most expensive fabrics 
the shops afford seem dowdy to her unless the man 
inside is big enough and sincere enough to adorn 
them. And Mary’s perspicacity can penetrate the 
outer husk and appraise what is inside.” 


154 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


Tom was silent for some moments and it was evi- 
dent that he was getting a new view of life in gen- 
eral and of himself especially with some sidelights 
on Mary Benton. At length he replied, but with 
somewhat less assurance: “Uncle Danny, I think I 
begin to get faint glimmerings of your meaning 
and of Mary’s point of view. But, as to being 
superficial and less than sincere you must admit that 
I rank high in all my studies. The grades you have 
given me will bear out that statement.” 

“Yes, I recall the fact that you included your col- 
lege work in your inventory of your good qualities 
and I admit that your record as a student shows well 
on the books, but I have been making a somewhat 
careful study of you to determine, if possible, the 
motives that actuated you in your eagerness to win 
good grades and I have reached the conclusion that, 
in your case, at least, there is such a malady as 
academic vanity.” 

“Uncle Danny,” Tom replied, “if you would set 
up as a lexicographer you would certainly be a 
bright and shining light. But I beg to enter a plea 
of ignorance as to the meaning of your expression, 
‘academic vanity’ and humbly crave enlightenment.” 

“Very well, Sir Suppliant. I have the enlighten- 
ment ready at hand and shall dispense it generously. 
The poet says, as you may recall, ‘Knowledge and 


THE COLLEGE STUDENT 


155 


wisdom far from being one, have ofttimes no con- 
nection/ My analysis, so far, has led to the con- 
clusion that you have failed to find the connecting 
link between knowledge and wisdom. If you could 
not parade your achievements in the class-room you 
would disdain to study. But your grades count in 
your favor in your efforts to become conspicuous in 
college circles, and you use them just as you do 
your good looks, your expensive clothing, your 
automobile, and your father's money. You strive 
to impress people and are willing even to study to 
achieve that end. But in your heart of hearts all 
your lessons are a bore and you care not at all for 
the wisdom that is supposed to become the resultant 
of knowledge. When knowledge fails to function 
in wisdom it is of small moment.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, I have accumulated wisdom 
enough to desire Mary Benton,” observed Tom. 

“Yes, but not wisdom enough to get her, as yet, 
it seems. And that reminds me that I am sorely 
puzzled in my efforts to make out whether you de- 
sire Mary for what she is or merely because she is 
difficult to acquire. You have an impelling desire to 
achieve triumphs and can not brook failure with 
complacency. So it might fall out, if you would dig 
down deep into your motives, that you are eager to 
add Mary to your collection of victories.” 


156 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


'‘Uncle Danny, the suggestion is unworthy of 
you and I do not take kindly — ” 

“Steady, there, steady all! You must study re- 
pose of character, Thomas. Let me regale you with 
an allegory while you are cooling off. Once upon a 
time a farmer had an apple-tree and on the top-most 
bough was an apple of surpassing beauty. The 
farmer’s son desired that particular apple most 
ardently but when the father suggested that he climb 
to the top and get it he replied that, in so doing, he 
would soil his clothes and bruise his hands. Then 
the son suggested that the father get his rifle and 
shoot the apple from its stem and that he would 
catch it when it fell.” 

“All of which has nothing whatever to do with 
the present discussion so far as I can see,” said Tom. 

“Which shows,” retorted Uncle Danny, ’’that you 
have not learned wisdom in the matter of interpret- 
ing allegories. Let me venture an interpretation. 
Mary is the apple, you are the boy who refuses to 
run the risk of soiling his clothes and bruising his 
hands, and so importunes his father to use his re- 
sources in acquiring the much coveted apple for the 
son.” 

“Even your interpretation leaves much to be de- 
sired. Can’t you now interpret the interpretation?” 

“Yes, I can, and I shall be glad to do so. You 


THE COLLEGE STUDENT 


157 


desire Mary Benton but are unwilling to make any 
sacrifices in order to win her/’ 

“Wait a moment, Uncle Danny. What possible 
warrant have you for a statement like that?” 

“Eyesight and common sense — and other things 
on demand. There isn’t a single item in your in- 
ventory of qualifications except your good looks 
and the debatable virtue of your college work that 
does not emanate from your father. His money 
has bought your automobile, and your clothing, and 
his money is paying the bills for your popularity. 
You want Mary Benton but are unwilling to pay 
for the ticket to her affections.” 

“Please be specific, if you insist upon being per- 
sonal,” Tom demanded with some fervor. 

“Very well, if you will have it so. Nick, you’d 
better come alive there, or you’ll miss the fun. 
There may be a near-riot here in the next ten min- 
utes, and it will beat a chipmunk hunt all hollow. 
But to resume. You smoke cigarettes, and you 
must have discovered that they are Miss Benton’s 
special abomination. But, knowing that, you go into 
her presence reeking with the odor and apparently 
expect her to fall down and worship you including 
your aroma because you are good-looking, because 
other girls make over you, because you have on a 
good outfit of clothing, that never cost you an hour’s 


158 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


effort, and because there is an automobile standing 
in front that your father bought for you as a sort 
of unconscious bribe to uphold the family name. If, 
when you enter her presence there should emanate 
from her an exhalation as offensive to you as cigar- 
ette odor is to her you’d rush from the house and 
call the police. But you expect her to smile her 
most winsome smile when you appear before her 
even though you offend her olfactory organs as 
poignantly as a garbage-cart. You say she is fine, 
and so she is, but you seem not to respect her fine- 
ness when you exhale odors that are offensive. I 
dare say she reflects that it would not be pleasant 
to spend her entire life amid such odors. You see, 
Tom, it is a question whether you will rise to her 
standards or bring her down to yours — even in the 
matter of odors. You say she is too fine to be a 
teacher. She has it in her power to abate disagree- 
able odors in her school room, but she can’t be cer- 
tain of a like success in her own home. Mary is 
innately clean, and sweet, and pure, and any man 
who would attempt to have her decline from her 
high standards would not be the man whose name 
she would take for life.” 

“But, really, Uncle Danny, I can’t make out how 
you come to have such an intimate knowledge of 
Mary’s standards and modes of thinking.” 


THE COLLEGE STUDENT 


159 


“With equal propriety, Tom, you might ask how 
I come to know so much about you. The answer is 
that I use my eyes and have acquired the ability to 
add two and two. I find out that in the arithmetic 
of life it comes out four every time. Only in the 
case of Mary, she runs in here quite often and tells 
me many things about herself and some things 
about you.” 

“Well, then, what other grievous faults have I 
besides the cigarette habit?” Tom asked. 

“Now, Tom, you know very well that I would 
never retail to you any thing that Mary has said to 
me. She has the courage to tell you herself. But 
I do know some things that she has never men- 
tioned. I know how she must feel about them.” 

“Well, Uncle Danny, I may as well have the full 
indictment now that I am here and you have got 
under way. So proceed with the blood-letting.” 

“Let us hope that the blood-letting may prove 
efficacious.” 

“Amen!” exploded Tom. 

“Well, you must recall that night when the boys 
were celebrating their foot-ball victory. Of course 
you do, for you were conspicuous in that as you try 
to be in everything. Mary and I were talking to- 
gether when the night-shirt parade filed by with all 
the attendant hooting, yelling, and other discordant 


i6o UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


noises. I think I never saw on any human face such 
a look of intense disgust as I saw on Mary’s when 
you passed. Not a word was spoken but her face 
told a whole volume. She inwardly revolted at the 
whole unseemly spectacle.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, where’s the use in Mary or 
any one else becoming puritanical ?” 

“Shades of Priscilla! Puritanical! Tom Foster, 
you know better than I that there isn’t a girl in this 
town who is more resourceful than Mary Benton in 
contriving good, wholesome, side-splitting fun. 
Then you talk about her becoming puritanical. She 
discriminates between good fun and coarse buffoon- 
ery — a distinction that you seem either unable or un- 
willing to make. It does seem as if young men 
should have learned at home if not in college not to 
offend the proprieties and good taste under the thin 
disguise of fun. No one objects to good fun, but 
Mary Benton showed by her looks that she shrinks 
from the coarse pranks that you chaps were indulg- 
ing in that night, in your suggestive attire and with 
your noise and coarse conduct. I could plainly see 
that Mary was inwardly thinking that, at last, she 
was looking at the real Tom Foster and what she 
saw did not seem to be specially edifying. I hold no 
brief for Mary Benton, but, if I know her as well as 
I think I do, she shed tears that night when the lights 


THE COLLEGE STUDENT 


i6i 

were out — tears of sheer disappointment in Tom 
Foster.” 

“Why, Uncle Danny, you amaze me. Would she 
take to heart an innocent lark like that?” 

“Innocent fish-hooks! She wasn’t crying, if she 
cried at all, about the lark, as you call it. She was 
crying because she saw Tom Foster climb down 
from the pedestal where she had placed him and 
give an ocular demonstration of the fact that he is 
as common as the commonest, in fact a leader in the 
grotesque and well-nigh obscene rowdyism. You 
see, Tom, Mary Benton is an uncommon combina- 
tion of daintiness and strength, and anything that 
is either coarse or weak jars upon her.” 

“Yes, I can see that now, Uncle Danny, but never 
looked at it in that light before. Did you ever 
observe any further confirmation of the feelings 
that you think possessed her that night with refer- 
ence to me ?” 

“Yes, I did. A few days later she and I were 
walking along the street when you drove by in your 
machine. You were driving at a furious pace, with 
triumph written in every lineament of your face, 
but absolutely indifferent to the safety or comfort 
of others. You seemed to be saying that the great 
Thomas Foster was out for an airing and that all 
others would do well to rush to a place of safety 


1 62 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


and admire. There was such a pained expression 
on Mary’s face that it hurt me to see it. You must 
know, Tom, that a girl of Mary’s temperament can 
not look with favor upon swagger, bluster, or loud- 
ness. On that occasion you were exhibiting all these 
qualities, and seemed to expect people to admire 
them. Well, Mary didn’t admire them. On the con- 
trary, she seemed to bury some of her hopes for you 
right there. The veriest clown can make a big blare 
and noise like that, but a gentleman never does, and 
Mary’s face seemed to be bidding good-by to the 
gentleman she had hoped you would become.” 

“Say, Uncle Danny, let’s call a halt now on the 
diagnosis and see if there is any remedy. You have 
given me about all I can stand in the way of diag- 
nosis and I fain would have a recital of your remedy. 
I’m not sure whether I ought to be electrocuted or 
merely sent to prison for life. What is wrong with 
me and what’s the remedy ? Those are the things I 
want to know just as soon as you can get them to 
me.” 

“Well, Tom, that’s a large order. The malady 
reaches back quite a few years and concerns itself 
with an indulgent mother and an over-generous 
father. They have permitted you to think that 
money will unlock any and every door. But you 
have come to one now that seems not to yield to the 


THE COLLEGE STUDENT 163 

blandishments of gold and bank-accounts. Again, 
your parents failed to teach you the nobility of hon- 
est work — old-fashioned sweat-provoking work, and 
you have come to think of yourself as one of the 
favorites of fortune. In this way you have encased 
yourself in a veneer of selfishness. You want what 
you want when you want it, as some song has it, and 
know of no reason why you should not have it. You 
have got the notion that everything that you want 
has a price-tag attached to it somewhere, and only 
recently have you begun to become conscious 
that there are some very desirable things in this 
world that money can not buy. Mary Benton is 
one of these. It dazed you to learn that your 
wealth is one of the least of your attractions 
to her.” 

“Yes, I know all that, Uncle Danny, but tell me 
what to do,” said Tom with some show of impa- 
tience. 

“When I tell you what to do I suppose you'll rush 
right off and have it all done before morning. And 
on the way home you’ll stop in to see Mary and 
regale her with a noble array of perfectly good and 
warranted-to-wash resolutions.” 

“Why, certainly, to all that you have said,” Tom 
responded. 

“Then it will be useless to give you a prescription. 


1 64 UNCLE DANNY'S NEIGHBORS 


Your trouble is so deep-seated that it will require 
fully five years to bring about a complete cure.” 

“What! Five years? Why, I’ll have been mar- 
ried to Mary Benton long before that.” 

“So? Well, if I were you I’d do her the honor 
to gain her consent first. Let me tell you, Tom. 
Mary Benton may be a wife inside of five years but 
not yours. If you can make yourself worthy of her 
in five years you may consider yourself very for- 
tunate.” 

“But what am I to do? Please tell me that, leav- 
ing out the time element. You’ve been beating 
about the bush for a long time. What am I to do?” 

“Easy. Take two pills.” 

“Is that all?” 

“Absolutely all.” 

“Fine. What are they? I’ll take them both at 
once,” and Tom laughed in great glee. 

“First, exalt character above reputation, and sec- 
ond, subordinate your body to the mind and spirit.” 

“Uncle Danny, are you trying to make a fool of 
me ?” 

“Tom, you don’t need any help on that job.” 

“Please name those pills again, Uncle Danny, will 
you?” 

“Get character and don’t bother your head about 
your reputation. Next make your body come under 


THE COLLEGE STUDENT 165 

the control of your soul. Now, run along, Tom, 
and take both pills at once.” 

“Wait, I beg you, Uncle Danny. Don’t refuse 
food to one who is starving. If I have the least 
notion of what you mean it will require a lifetime 
to take those two pills.” 

“Come awake, Nick, and look upon a young man 
who is developing symptoms of wisdom. Very well, 
Tom, let me explain the composition of these pills. 
They are closely related. Character is what you 
know yourself to be; reputation is what others think 
you are. You have heard these definitions many 
times but you need to hear them repeated with a 
personal application. You have been exalting and 
glorifying your body so long and so much that your 
soul is becoming emaciated and shriveled. You 
have carried so many people off their feet with your 
bombastic swash-buckling that you have come to 
think yourself invincible till you came face to face 
with Mary. She sees the puniness of your soul and 
will have none of you until you have grown a soul 
that is man-size. She doesn’t care to spend a life- 
time in the company either of a prig or a snob pa- 
rading in the garb of a man. Her eyes see through 
you and back again at a single glance. When you 
have grown a soul that is big she’ll know it without 
your telling. Some of you college chaps get an 


1 66 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


inflated notion of your own importance, but you 
can’t hoodwink the Mary Bentons. They are look- 
ing for character and not mere superficial reputa- 
tion. They are estimating the size of the soul, not 
the body. You must have known ‘Rink’ Barring- 
ton. He was a star foot-ball player, a star basket- 
ball player, a star base-ball player, a star singer in 
the glee club, and a star player in the orchestra. But, 
in addition to all this, he was a star in the class- 
room, and still was never less than a modest well- 
conditioned young gentleman. He had plenty of 
sail but quite enough ballast to hold his craft steady. 
Your trouble has been too much sail, Tom, and not 
enough ballast. As your soul grows you will become 
sincere, modest, straightforward, upright, and re- 
liable — the very qualities that Mary Benton thinks 
should characterize a real man. These are the qual- 
ities, too, that will bring credit to the American Col- 
lege. And, Tom, I think I would not drop in to see 
Mary on my way home. You’ll hardly know what 
to say to her. Better take your pills to tone you 
up for a profitable and pleasant social call. Good 
night.” 

“Good night, Uncle Danny. I’ll get busy.” 


CHAPTER X 


THE ROUND TABLE 

Uncle Danny found poignant delight in the 
company of young men of the college and, especially, 
of those who had made definite plans for the future. 
In them he found fertile soil for the seeds of wisdom 
which it was his pleasure to sow. There was a 
catholicity in his mode of teaching that set him 
apart as both more and less than the teacher who 
must be clothed upon with the habiliments and insig- 
nia of his office in order to proceed with his teach- 
ing. Uncle Danny was a great teacher because of 
the informality of his teaching and, for this very 
reason, he seemed less than a teacher because his 
best teaching seemed not to be teaching at all. In- 
deed, the formality of his class-room was but a con- 
venient situation or occasion where and when his 
students became saturated with the wisdom which 
his own spirit exhaled. So, it was all one to those 
who were eager to learn whether they were in his 
class-room, in his study, or sitting with him on the 
crest of Sugar Loaf ; his teaching was of the same 
quality, exhilarating and tonic. He talked along in 
an informal way, without parade, but his sentences 
167 


1 68 UNCLE DANNY'S NEIGHBORS 


all bore rich cargoes of wisdom. Thus, it fell out 
that the young men sought his presence with keen 
anticipations, knowing full well that a session with 
him meant mental and spiritual refreshment. 

So it seemed altogether natural and fitting that 
three of these young men found themselves assem- 
bled in his study one evening, without any pre- 
conceived or preconcerted plan. They were there 
just as iron-filings are at the end of the magnet. 
Nor was it at all needful that they should offer any 
explanation of their presence. They were there be- 
cause they would rather be there than elsewhere 
and because they felt the need of what they knew 
they could get there better than elsewhere. They 
knew, too, that they were sure of a welcome and so 
did not need to be told. Uncle Danny knew his boys 
and his boys knew him, and that was the plane of 
understanding upon which they met in the utmost 
freedom. 

All these three young men had been teachers be- 
fore going to college and had espoused the work of 
teaching as their vocation. Indeed, all of them had 
already secured positions for the next year as vil- 
lage superintendents. This fact, alone, constituted 
a community of interest and feeling and they were 
further actuated by a desire to commune with Uncle 
Danny as a teacher in the full knowledge that his 


THE ROUND TABLE 


169 


counsel would be to them as the compass to the 
mariner. As is the manner of young men who are 
looking into the future they were all animation in 
recounting to Uncle Danny and to one another the 
details of the negotiations incident to their respec- 
tive elections. 

Uncle Danny listened, in rapt attention, to their 
recital of their pedagogical adventures, for he had 
traveled the same road in years gone by and could, 
therefore, react to their offerings with alacrity and 
understanding. These three embryo superintendents 
were John Winters, Howard Clifton and Henry 
Sargent, and they were in full accord in their ebul- 
lient enthusiasm over their success in securing posi- 
tions. 

“How long do you boys hope to hold these highly 
desirable positions you have just secured?” Uncle 
Danny asked. 

“Forever and a day,” blurted out Henry. 

“Until I’m invited to some lucrative city superin- 
tendency,” said John. 

“How about you, Howard ?” Uncle Danny asked. 

“Eve been meditating upon the possibilities,” 
responded Howard deliberately. “At first it seemed 
glory enough to be attached to the pay-roll, but I 
find there is another side to the transaction. I think 
I learned the meaning of quid pro quo from you, 


170 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


Uncle Danny, and if the school board hands over 
the quid to me I take it they will expect me to hand 
the quo back to them.” 

“A Socrates come to judgment!” exploded Uncle 
Danny. “Let Solomon now resign his portfolio and 
be relegated to private life, for he has been sup- 
planted and, henceforth, we shall consult Howard 
Clifton. But, seriously, Howard, I commend your 
perspicacity and your very forceful and unique 
manner of stating the case. You have sounded the 
key-note; you have hit the bull’s eye the first shot. 
Many a young man becomes so elated over his good 
fortune in securing a position that he neglects to 
consider what he is to do that he may retain it.” 

“Low bridge !” exclaimed Henry. “Uncle Danny, 
it is fair cruel to put a fellow out on first base like 
that.” 

“Get off your stilts!” retorted John. “Uncle 
Danny didn’t put you out at all. Howard put you 
out on a foul. That boy Howard is some player at 
this logic game. You will notice that I played safe 
in my reply to Uncle Danny’s question and didn’t 
leave the gate open for some logician like Mr. How- 
ard Clifton or Uncle Danny to ramp through.” 

“Oh, didn’t you?” responded Henry. “Well, 
you’d better back up to the station and take another 
inventory. You’re going to stay right on in this 


THE ROUND TABLE 


I 7 I 

new place of yours till some city delegation marches 
up to you and presents to you an embossed invitation 
to come over into their Macedonia and furnish them 
an uplift? Is that the big idea? You expect the 
Lord Mayor to head the procession riding a pranc- 
ing charger all flecked with foam with a mighty 
concourse of dignitaries attending him, all beseech- 
ing you with languishing looks and tearful appeals 
to — ” 

“Forget it! Forget it this minute,” bellowed 
John. “Send in your resignation at once to that 
school board that thought they were getting a super- 
intendent. You’re no school-teacher; you’re a rant- 
ing, melodramatic barn-stormer, and ought to be 
treading the boards in some fifteen-cent playhouse.” 

“Act two,” retorted Henry, “enter Mr. John 
Winters, glowering at a carefully worded request 
for his resignation as superintendent. Act three: 
The same Mr. Winters is seen driving an ice 
wagon while waiting for a position as city super- 
intendent.” 

“On with the dance; let joy be unconfined!” 
shouted Howard so lustily that Nick became 
dynamic and punctuated the situation with his best 
style of barking. 

“Order!” called Uncle Danny. “This unseemly 
conduct does not comport with the high standing 


172 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


of dignified, sedate school-masters and, besides, you 
should bear in mind that we have, in this town, both 
a fire department and a police force — and either of 
these will respond to a summons from me. Now, 
with your kind permission — ” 

“Approved!” shouted Henry. 

“ and your undivided attention,” Uncle Danny 

continued, “I’d like to remark that all three of you 
have come very close to the truth — ” 

“Hear! Hear!” cried John. 

“ even though your answers to my questions 

were given on the spur of the moment. If we could 
make a composite of your answers we'd have a 
pedagogical dictum that would be worthy a place 
in a book.” 

“Me for the book-stuff,” interrupted Howard. 
“Go to it, Uncle Danny.” 

“Well, Howard,” drawled Uncle Danny, “that 
must be a recent development, for I never noticed 
that you seemed particularly enamored of book- 
stuff in times past.” 

“Now let the galled jade wince,” exclaimed John. 
“Uncle Danny, every now and again you do manage 
to hit upon some great truth.” 

“Yes, John, I do,” he answered, “and if I were 
inclined to reveal — ” 

“But, you’re not so inclined, Uncle Danny,” John 


THE ROUND TABLE 


173 


countered. “I can’t think of your becoming personal 
at the present juncture.” 

“Oh, very well,” laughed Uncle Danny, “if you 
want me to deck you out in the mantle of charity 
I’ll do so on condition that you subside and — ” 

“Know all men by these presents,” John re- 
sponded, “that I do hereby subside and shall not 
again this evening fling defiance at the lightning.” 

“Very well, then,” resumed Uncle Danny, “as I 
was about to say when I was so indecorously inter- 
rupted, Henry expects to retain his position forever 
and a day, John is to stay until a city invites him, 
and you, Howard, are wondering what you must do 
to return a quo for their quid. If I could only con- 
dense you three chaps into one — ” 

“Hooray!” cried John. “Three souls with but a 
single thought, three hearts that beat as one.” 

“If I said souls,” retorted Uncle Danny, “I hereby 
withdraw the statement.” 

“Ouch!” exclaimed Henry. “Howard, will you 
kindly muzzle that chap Winters in the interest of 
good manners?” 

“Now,” said Howard, “shall this Winters of dis- 
content be made glorious summer by this son of 
Clifton.” 

“Who’s all right?” ejaculated John. “Clifton! 
Now, Uncle Danny, as you were saying — ” 


174 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“Yes,” said Uncle Danny, “as I was saying, if I 
could get a chemical precipitate of you three fel- 
lows, I’d have a pretty fair school superintendent. 
I’d like to inoculate each of you with virus from 
the other two. John is all right in looking forward 
to a city superintendency, but he needs to consider 
that he must become a master in his present position 
before he can ever hope for advancement. And that 
brings us to Howard’s view-point. He is, perhaps, 
over-cauticrus and needs to have an access of faith 
in himself in order to win through. Henry is well 
enough in his way — ” 

“Damned with faint praise,” quoted Henry. 

“Not at all,” replied Uncle Danny, “but, Henry, 
you certainly do not propose to stay forever and a 
day in one place unless that self-same place becomes 
larger and larger as the years go by, do you?” 

“Not on your — I mean, certainly not, Uncle 
Danny.” 

“Ah, so I thought,” said Uncle Danny. “Take 
this town as an illustration. Our superintendent 
has been here nine years and, in all that time, the 
town has had no growth to speak of. If a man 
doesn’t grow more rapidly than this town grows 
he’s a pretty poor sort of chap.” 

“What’s the answer, Uncle Danny?” Henry 
asked. 


THE ROUND TABLE 


U5 


“The answer is that when he found the town was 
not growing, he should have shaken the dust from 
his feet and — ” 

“Gone as chauffeur on an ice-wagon ?” queried 
John. 

“Well, yes, even that rather than to be stricken 
with arrested development.” 

“But the antidote, Uncle Danny; what is that?” 
asked Henry. 

“Learn to sing.” 

“Sing? Sing what?” 

“That good old hymn, 

‘Sure I must fight if I would reign, 

Increase my courage, Lord.’ ” 

“But,” asked Howard, “What’s a fellow to fight?” 

“Himself.” 

“Oh!” all three ejaculated in chorus. 

“Yes,” continued Uncle Danny, “that epitomizes 
life — fighting one’s self. It has its advantages, too; 
for there’s no innocent bystander to incur harm.” 

“What are the weapons, Uncle Danny ?” Howard 
asked. 

“They are too numerous to mention, but among 
them may be mentioned books, magazines, space, 


176 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


sky, rivers, oceans, mountains, and people — espe- 
cially people.” 

“Say, boys,” said John, “our dearly beloved Uncle 
Danny is sadly falling into decline. Too bad! Too 
bad !” 

“No, he isn’t,” said Henry, “he's cryptic, or enig- 
matic or something like that.” 

“Wrong, as usual,” retorted Uncle Danny. 
“Henry, you ought to give up this habit of guessing. 
You’re not a success at the game.” 

“Gentlemen,” said Howard, “kindly keep still and 
permit the dominie to explain himself if he can.” 

“Very good of you, Howard, I’m sure,” and Uncle 
Danny laughed, “to enter a plea for a driveling old 
dotard. Bless you, my child. Well, just to afford 
you chaps the unusual experience of having light 
filter into your minds, I’ll explain in words of one 
syllable—” 

“Primer class will recite,” called Henry. “Come 
on, Nick, you’re a member in good and regular 
standing.” 

“Yes, people, of course,” Uncle Danny continued. 
“Again and again, people. If you incipient superin- 
tendents can only learn to be folks by associating 
with folks you’ll get your pedagogical unnaturalness 
worn away by the most wholesome sort of attrition. 
You’ll learn to walk down on the ground, where 


THE ROUND TABLE 


177 


good folks are and not on academic or pedagogical 
stilts, as so many school people do, to their own dis- 
advantage. Why, boys, this school-teaching is one 
of the most human enterprises in the world, and. 
unless you so regard it, you’ll fail, and fail miserably, 
too. Yes, you must fight yourselves by means of 
people. You must learn their thoughts, their aspira- 
tions, their feelings, and their work in order to live 
agreeably among them and work effectively with 
and for their children. You must learn the language 
of the laborer, the mechanic, the merchant, the 
banker, and the farmer, or you’ll never be at your 
best as teachers of their little ones. If you chaps 
ever get to posing as oracles these good people will 
soon repudiate you, for they soon detect what is 
genuine and what is spurious. Veneer doesn’t 
attract them. They want you to have a genuine 
interest in them and in what they are doing. Hence, 
you will do well to listen while they talk, and not 
get the habit of parsing words and solving problems 
every time you meet them.” 

“Hooray for the folks ! I’m for ’em !” exclaimed 
John. 

“Make it unanimous !” said Henry. 

“But, Uncle Danny,” asked Howard, “while I’m 
all for the people, with these other dumb-heads. I’m 
still thinking of your other offensive or defensive 


178 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 

weapons — rivers, space, mountains and stars. 
Where and how do they come into the great scheme 
of things?” 

'‘The point is well taken,” Uncle Danny re- 
sponded. “School-teaching, my lad, has a tendency 
to contract people, to make them narrow, and they 
need big influences to counteract this tendency. For 
a part of each day they ought to submerge the 
teacher part of themselves in the deeps of big things 
— big books, big thoughts, or big concepts. If you 
ever contract the habit of chasing after X all day 
long, up hill and down dale, you ought to climb a 
tree, or go to the top of a mountain and take a look 
around. You will soon discover that the X you 
were racing after is only a puny incident along the 
way — important, of course, but not important 
enough to absorb the whole of any one’s thought and 
time. We use X as a means of measuring space, 
and, therefore, it can not be so big as space. So we’d 
better contemplate space a part of the day and not 
let the soul shrivel up. So many teachers imagine 
themselves Atlas carrying the world upon their 
shoulders, that they become bent and old before their 
time from carrying a burden that is wholly imag- 
inary. They live, but they don’t have life, for the 
simple reason that they don’t drink from the foun- 
tain of life. You recall that sentence in your Latin, 


THE ROUND TABLE 


1 79 


‘The mountains are in travail and a ridiculous mouse 
is brought forth.’ I have often wondered how that 
ancient poet could forecast the modern school- 
teacher with such accuracy.” 

“But, Uncle Danny,” persisted Howard, “I’m still 
quite in the dark about that mouse that you lay stress 
upon.” 

“Oh, the mouse?” he replied. “Well, we must 
drag the timorous beastie out into the garish day 
that you may have a good look at him. Sometimes, 
the aforesaid mouse takes on the form of a mark, 
or a grade on a piece of paper. A teacher sits in a 
room grading papers 'with the whole sky overhead 
and the whole earth underneath,’ forgetful of the 
fact that sky, and earth, and stars, and space exist 
and, straining his nerves to the breaking point, and 
corrugating his brows to the verge of distortion, he 
at last produces a mouse in the form of a blue semi- 
colon.” 

“Wow!” exclaimed Henry. “Pater Familias is 
- by way of becoming sarcastic.” 

“Henry!” drawled Uncle Danny, “you ought to 
learn to distinguish between sarcasm and history. 
I am telling you things that I myself do know. I 
know some school superintendents, grown men at 
that, and voters, who spend their time doling out 
pens, pencils, crayon, and tablets and call their 


180 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


so-called activity school administration. The moun- 
tains are in travail and the mouse emerges in the 
form of a two-cent pencil. I saw a man driving an 
automobile the other day at the rate of thirty miles 
an hour and later learned that when he reached his 
destination he bought a five-cent bag of peanuts.” 

“Right this way, ladies and gentlemen,” cried 
Henry, “to get your peanut pedagogy !” 

“And your peanut pedagogues,” Uncle Danny 
flashed back. 

“Now, will you be good?” queried Howard. 
“Now, Uncle Danny, please be good enough to go 
right on, regardless of hysterical interruptions, and 
tell us, man to man, how we are to achieve, at 
length, the city superintendency for which our dear 
John here has such an eager longing.” 

“That’s as easy as pie,” said Uncle Danny. “All 
you have to do is to see big things big and little 
things little ; be vaccinated against professional 
bigotry; learn the definition of teaching; and put it 
into practise.” 

“Shades of Elihu Burritt! Mary Ann’s grand- 
mother!” exploded Henry. “Give us the book and 
let us read it. Easy as pie, is it? Kindly excuse 
me from a diet of pie. Boys, do either of you 
happen to know what the distinguished gentleman 
is talking about ?” 

“Not either one or both together,” said John. 


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181 


“Uncle Danny, will you reduce the formula to pri- 
mordial elements, that wayfaring pilgrims may un- 
derstand ?” 

“Oh, another thing,” said Uncle Danny. “I for- 
got to warn you against the show element in your 
school work.” 

“Uncle Danny,” asked Henry, “did you ever, by 
the remotest chance, happen to come upon the 
expression ‘getting down to brass tacks’ ?” 

“Oh, very often,” laughed Uncle Danny. 

“Then,” replied Henry, “perhaps you may be 
able to give us a practical demonstration.” 

“Yes,” said Uncle Danny, “may, can, must. You 
see, young men, if you ever become tainted with 
professional bigotry you will fondly imagine that 
your words are oracular, that the course of study 
you contrive was handed down to you on tables of 
stone and is, therefore, incapable of improvement, 
and that when you speak the stars stop in their 
courses to listen.” 

“Uncle Danny,” replied John, “whatever your 
professional bigotry is, I’m ag’in’ it for your sake, 
and shall buckle on my armor, lay my lance in rest, 
and fight the thing to the death.” 

“Isn’t he the bonny champion, now?” mocked 
Howard. “But, really, I’m eager to hear the oracle 
interpret the deep and hidden meaning of teaching.” 

“Let me put a question to you, Howard,” said 


1 82 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


Uncle Danny. “Suppose, upon going into a school- 
room, you find the teacher using a method that is 
absolutely wrong, what will you do?” 

“Violent supposition, Uncle Danny,” said 
Henry. “He’d never know it was wrong, and would 
praise her to the skies.” 

“Cease your prattle, infant,” retorted Howard. 
“Why, Uncle Danny, I’ll tell her so to her beautiful 
face.” 

“Not in a thousand years!” blurted out John. 
“Not if her face is beautiful or if you think it is, as 
will likely be the case.” 

“I wish,” said Howard, “that I could inoculate 
you two chaps with the germ of infantile paralysis, 
anything to keep you quiet. What grade are you 
going to give me on my answer, Uncle Danny?” 

“Zero,” replied Uncle Danny, “and even that is 
rather high. No, Howard, you are wrong by a 
whole diameter just as many others are. They 
seem to fancy that criticism and teaching are synony- 
mous, whereas they are antipodal. Teaching is for- 
evermore constructive, while criticism is destruc- 
tive. Teaching opens the mind for truth; criticism 
closes it. If you criticize the teacher, she will be- 
come discouraged, or grow indignant, or weep — all 
bad, yea, very bad. But, if you find something that 


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183 


you can commend, she will glow with pleasure and, 
in time, will slough off the wrong methods in her 
zeal for the right ones.” 

“Say, Uncle Danny,” said Henry, “you do have 
lucid moments, after all. Even I can see the force 
of your reasoning.” 

“The infant is cutting his wisdom teeth at an 
early age,” said Howard. 

“Isn’t he, though?” echoed John. 

“Now, Uncle Danny,” rejoined Henry, “just for 
the enlightenment of these two neophytes, let’s hear 
you effervesce on the subject of what you call the 
show element in teaching.” 

“That, my Henry,” Uncle Danny replied, “is the 
rock on which your craft is liable to be wrecked.” 

“Hear! Hear!” cried John and Howard in uni- 
son. 

“Yes,” Uncle Danny continued, “you need vac- 
cination against just that frailty. You’ll incline to 
be spectacular and will strive to create a flare and a 
blare. You’ll be inclined to sacrifice safety for 
speed. You’ll be in such a great hurry to achieve 
distinction, that you’ll want to have exhibits and 
things like that to show the people what a wonder- 
ful school man you are. You’ll want to rush into 
the limelight and will incline to discredit all that 


1 84 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


your predecessor has done. You will be inclined 
to exploit both pupils and teachers for your own 
glory and will be slow to give them the credit for 
their own work.” 

“Uncle Danny,” queried Henry, “did you ever 
make a mistake and flay a man when you merely 
intended to vaccinate him?” 

“Well,” replied Uncle Danny, “I am an ardent 
advocate of thoroughness.” 

“Your practises certainly bear out that state- 
ment,” Henry replied. 

“All that I have been trying to say, boys,” Uncle 
Danny observed, “is that a school man may be 
dynamic without being pyrotechnic, that he can be 
pervasive and incisive without being obtrusive.” 

“Uncle Danny,” said Henry, “I now know why 
Mary Benton calls you the Adjunct 'Celestial Sur- 
geon.' ” 

“Does she call me that ?” 

“She does, and often,” Henry replied. 

“The baggage ! She must have been reading Stev- 
enson’s The Celestial Surgeon 

“Yes, she has it memorized and repeats it every 
day. She says she needs it to keep her dynamic.” 

“Well, it seems to answer the purpose. There 
are those who could profit by her example.” 


THE ROUND TABLE 185 

“Boys, let's go. He’s apt to get personal, if we 
stay,” said Howard. 

“And boys,” said he as they were passing out, 
“don’t contract the habit of telling folks how busy 
you are. Good night.” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE LEGISLATOR 

“Oho!” exclaimed Uncle Danny as James Cowan 
stepped into the room. “I’m to have the pleasure 
of a chat with a notable, a real name-blown-in-the- 
bottle Honorable, am I ?” 

“Gently there, Uncle Danny, gently now,” 
laughed the visitor. “I feel much as I did when I 
wore a dress-suit for the first time. I had difficulty 
in living *up to my gear, even without remarks from 
others.” 

“So the wind lies in that direction, eh? Oh, 
you’ll soon become warmed to your new title and 
then it will feel as comfortable as an old coat.” 

“And possibly, look as shabby,” replied Mr. 
Cowan. 

“Let us hope not,” replied Uncle Danny. 

“In that hope I join you most heartily, and that 
brings me to the object of my visit. I’d like to get 
your point of view as to the duties of a member of 
the Legislature. I feel that I must become a mem- 
ber of your class again, and, this time, I’m sure 
you’ll find me far more attentive and responsive 
1 86 


THE LEGISLATOR 187 

than I was when you were trying to conduct me 
through the mazes of the humanities.” 

“Happy is the teacher who has a docile student,” 
said Uncle Danny, with the whole-hearted chuckle 
which Cowan knew so well. “But, my dear James, 
what is it that disturbs your equilibrium? You 
don’t take your seat as a member of the Legislature 
for more than a month and here you are bothering 
your honorable head about legislative duties already. 
I’ve had them come to me a month after they took 
their seats but never till now a month in advance.” 

“So,” said Cowan, “I seem to be abnormal, do I ?” 

“No, not abnormal, but different. We must pay 
due regard to the element of discrimination in our 
use of w r ords. When you get to making laws you 
will need to study words in all their shades of mean- 
ing. So, I insist that you are different. Many of 
the men I have known have been so elated over their 
new titles that they seemed not to have much con- 
cern as to the duties and responsibilities that lay 
just ahead of them.” 

“Very well, then,” replied Cowan, “I’m different. 
I can’t help regarding my new title as a liability and 
not an asset. It will be an asset only when I make 
it so. I’d much rather honor the title than to have 
it honor me.” 


1 88 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“Look alive there, Nick!” exclaimed Uncle 
Danny. “Bestir yourself! You are failing to ap- 
preciate your opportunities and your blessings. Come 
forth from your somnolence and gaze your fill at a 
new and hitherto unheard-of specimen. Here in 
your canine and august presence is a legislator who 
prefers to swallow the whale rather than have the 
whale swallow him. Nick, we must celebrate this 
stupendous event. You shall have for your break- 
fast shredded wheat biscuit with a generous bap- 
tism of cream. Your lack of animation does not at 
all befit this momentous occasion.” 

“There, now, Nick,” exclaimed Cowan, “ ’tis an 
ill wind that blows nobody good. If cream is to in- 
undate your shredded wheat biscuit in the morning, 
my visit here this evening will not have been made 
in vain. But I fain would hope that you will not be 
the sole beneficiary of this call.” 

“Amen !” exploded Uncle Danny with gusto. “Let 
us hope that in the general distribution of the even- 
ing’s benefits we may each have a share. But, in 
particular, my legislative disciple, what brings you 
hither?” 

“I came to sit at the feet of Wisdom and learn 
of him. If you’ll proceed to talk I know I shall learn 
many things that will redound to my profit.” 

“In such a baptism of compliments I have the ex- 


THE LEGISLATOR 


189 


planation of your overwhelming election. If you 
conducted your campaign in that strain your com- 
petitor had no chance.” 

“Just a moment, Uncle Danny,” responded Cow- 
an. “You are allowing your imagination too loose 
rein. In my campaign I neither flattered the moth- 
ers, trundled the babies, nor gave bon-bons to the 
children. I talked to the voters in even tones, with 
no attempt at oratory, and no gesticulation. I told 
them, as man to man, that, if elected, I’d do my 
utmost to do the right and shun the wrong. They 
took me at my word and now you see I must find 
out from you what the right is.” 

“Oho,” said Uncle Danny, “so that’s the way of 
it, is it? Well, that’s a pretty large order for a poor 
defenseless old man. You ought to recede some 
centuries into the past and consult some Delphic 
oracle or something like that. You got off at the 
wrong station, my boy, if that’s the nature of your 
errand. Why, all these years that have been silver- 
ing my hair I’ve been asking that very question, 
'What is right?’ and haven’t found the answer yet.” 

“Possibly not, Uncle Danny, but I dare surmise 
that you can make a pretty close guess. So, I prefer 
to take chances with you rather than with the 
Delphic oracle. A man who is right does not go far 
astray in defining right.” 


1 9 o UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“James,” asked Uncle Danny, smiling, “did you 
ever by any chance visit Blarney Castle?” 

“Not guilty,” Cowan replied, “but I have spent 
many hours in your presence, and, if I have been 
deluded, I’m glad of it. I have come to look upon 
you as Right incarnate and, hence, my desire to 
hear you talk a bit.” 

“But, my dear fellow, it is far easier to talk than 
to say something.” 

“Not for you,” replied Cowan. 

“There you go again! You’ll never experience a 
transfusion of wisdom if you interrupt with seduc- 
tive blanishments.” 

“I’m silent,” said Cowan. 

“And you a legislator ? Never !” 

“Well, then, as nearly so as a legislator can be.” 

“Very good, and the amendment is accepted with- 
out debate. But, before I begin to exude oracular 
utterances, let me put to you a few simple questions.” 

“Enter the school-teacher and the inquisition,” 
laughed Cowan. 

“Quite so,” said Uncle Danny, “and you’ll have 
occasion mqre than once, ere the winter is past, to 
resort to the methods of the school-teacher. Only so 
will you be able to penetrate the mask of oratory and 
get at the heart of matters. Well, in the first place, 


THE LEGISLATOR 


T 9 r 

do you consider it your bounden duty to save the 
country ?” 

“Heaven forfend ! The country managed to wag 
along fairly well before my advent upon the stage 
and will no doubt continue to do so. Just now I’m 
seeking salvation for myself and not for the coun- 
try. I’m eager not to impede the country's pro- 
gress." 

“Very good! So far, you recite well and I’ll give 
you a high mark. In the next place, do you have 
secreted about your person any bills that you are 
proposing to introduce for the amelioration of mun- 
dane affairs?" 

“Never a bill." 

“Here, Nick, behold a prodigy! A legislator, and 
not a bill in his clothing ! What’s the world coming 
to ? How is this degenerate legislator to achieve im- 
mortality unless he manages to have his name 
printed in capitals at the top of some bill? Here, 
Nick, you see a luminary sinking into darkness be- 
hind a cloud of obscurity all because he has no bill 
in his inside pocket. Young man, for what sendee 
are you to draw your munificent stipend as a legis- 
lator? I demand an answer." 

“Easy, Uncle Danny, easy as pie. I shall extract 
from the State Treasury the stipend aforesaid as a 


192 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


slight compensation for my Herculean efforts to 
prevent legislation.” 

“Mercy ! I cry you for mercy, kind sir ! Is it as 
bad as that ? Oh, these degenerate days ! Oh, these 
degenerate sons of the Pilgrim Fathers! Have we 
descended to such depths of ignominy that we must 
nurture a young upstart in this country who thinks 
it his duty to forestall legislation? O temporal 
O mores'” 

“There, Uncle Danny, calm yourself. I rather 
thought a spasm like that would frazzle out into 
Latin in the end.” 

“ Tis a real delight to me, James, to know that 
you recognize it as Latin whether you know the 
translation or not. But, forgive my passionate ex- 
plosion. The audacity and originality of your sug- 
gestion carried me out from my moorings, and, for 
the moment, I forgot that I am a doddering old 
fossil sitting in the chimney corner, taking no note 
of passing events. But, even in my feebleness and 
senility, methinks I can discover in you some symp- 
toms of statesmanship.” 

“Oh, blessed senility! May your tribe increase! 
But wherefore, Uncle Danny, and, also, how and 
why ?” 

“Well, James,” Uncle Danny answered, “I have 
had no little experience with embryonic legislators 


THE LEGISLATOR 


*93 


in my time, and your view of your duties is alto- 
gether refreshing by comparison. I have had oc- 
casion to labor diligently with some of the brethren 
to get them around to the view that you hold, and, 
even then, had but indifferent success. The mere 
election of many of them seemed to elate them to 
the point of ecstasy and they seemed bent on sav- 
ing the world whether it yearned to be saved or not. 
Their first thought seemed to be to sponsor some 
bill with small regard to its merit. To have their 
names attached to a bill which provided for the ex- 
termination of hawks and musk- rats seemed to them 
a through ticket to Congress, and I have spent many 
Weary hours trying to puncture their expansiveness.” 

"And how did they take to the treatment?” 
asked Cowan. 

“Oh, as to that,” replied Uncle Danny, “some of 
the bumptious ones seemed to pity me on the score 
of my ignorance; but, for the most part, I feel that 
I can take some credit for legislating by proxy.” 

“And I hope you’ll not abate your efforts in that 
line during the coming session. But, how do you 
account for the attitude of the bumptious ones, as 
you call them?” 

“Well, you must have learned, ere this, that logic 
does not appeal to people who are on dress-parade. 
Their gaudy plumage seems to be proof against the 


i 9 4 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


shafts of logic. These bumptious ones came to me 
not to learn wisdom but to hear applause ; and when 
I attempted to vaccinate them against legislative 
mediocrity and futility, they rebelled, and I must 
needs hog-tie them before I could apply the vac- 
cine.” 

‘‘You are rather an adept at the hog-tying trick, 
aren’t you, Uncle Danny ?” 

“Well, you see, I’ve had quite a bit of practise, 
and I’ll not deny that I have acquired some skill in 
the noble art,” and Uncle Danny laughed aloud. 

“But, Uncle Danny, did the vaccination take?” 

“Oh, beautifully, in nearly every case and they 
lived happily ever after.” 

“And served a useful purpose in the Legislature?” 

“Yes, to the measure of their ability. But you 
must know, my dear fellow, that many men who go 
to the Legislature are provincial and can gain no 
concept of a legislative unit larger than the county 
in which they live. Such men think in terms of 
ditches, line-fences, and, as I said before, hawks 
and musk-rats. Their legislative concepts are all 
either local or personal and they devote more time 
to their re-election than to the study of statesman- 
ship.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, can statesmanship be ac- 
quired?” 


THE LEGISLATOR 


195 


‘‘Certainly it can. I’d be sorry not to believe 
that.” 

"But, how?” persisted Cowan. 

“Well, if the Lord has given a man a fairly lib- 
eral allowance of brains he ought to be able, by 
diligent work, to do the rest. You have only to re- 
view your history to realize that our greatest states- 
men have achieved statesmanship in this very way. 
Abraham Lincoln’s career aptly illustrates the point. 
But, to become a statesman, a man should slough 
his provincialism as early as possible. Tis a long 
journey from musk-rats to taxation and from line- 
fences to tariff.” 

“Yes, that is clear enough, Uncle Danny, but in 
the case of a novice, such as I, what course would 
you suggest?” 

“That’s a big question, James, but a fair ques- 
tion, none the less. In the first place, a man should 
be able to think out to the limits of his state. Other- 
wise his legislative concept will be restricted, and 
that makes for provincialism. If he stands sponsor 
for a bill he ought to see to it that it is broad enough 
in its scope and sufficiently vital in its character to 
be beneficial to every part of the state, and so not be 
detrimental to any community. Herein, we find the 
multiplication table of statesmanship. The man 


i 9 6 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


who can not compass an entire state in his thinking 
is not a hopeful candidate.” 

“Very well, Uncle Danny, I see that and think 
you have made out a good case. But, what next?” 

“I commend to your attention, in the next place, 
the consideration of nothing short of big construc- 
tive principles in matters of legislation.” 

“Meaning ?” 

“Not mere negations. Propose only such legis- 
lation as will get people in the way of doing right 
things and not merely prevent their doing wrong 
things. So much of our legislation strives to inter- 
dict this or that. You can’t legislate men into the 
Kingdom of righteousness but you can stimulate 
them to set about trying to work out their own sal- 
vation. Legislative bodies seem to be trying to pre- 
vent things rather than to promulgate the doing of 
other things.” 

“Wait just a moment, Uncle Danny. I’m falling 
behind the procession. I wish you’d give a concrete 
illustration.” 

“Certainly. Here’s one. Let us suppose that you 
pass a law to build good roads. That will obviate 
the necessity for a law that provides for the destruc- 
tion of burdocks and briars along the roadside. The 
farmers along the highway will make the environs 
harmonize with the road. By raising the standard 


THE LEGISLATOR 


197 


of the highways, you automatically raise the stand- 
ards of fences, lawns, fields and orchards. The 
farmers will take more pride in the care of their 
premises and, especially, since the good road induces 
an increase in the number of people who drive by.” 

“Well, Uncle Danny, your reasoning is rather 
convincing, but I still find myself doubting whether 
the sequences you describe would be inevitable.” 

“My dear fellow,” replied Uncle Danny, “I beg 
you not to forget your psychology when you enter 
the legislative halls. You’ll have need of it every 
hour of the day. Indeed, a knowledge of psychol- 
ogy ought to be made a prerequisite for admission 
to membership in a legislative body.” 

“Hold hard there, Uncle Danny. I’m in deep 
water again. I beg you to elucidate.” 

“Well, if every member of a legislative body un- 
derstood psychology he would understand how the 
human mind works and would be able to predicate 
effects when causes are given. He would then need 
only to concern himself with causes knowing that 
definite effects would ensue.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, such a course would decimate 
the Legislature.” 

“Yes, and greatly increase the quality. Ten 
men with a knowledge of psychology would do more 
and better work for the state than a hundred men 


98 UNCLE DANNY'S NEIGHBORS 


without such knowledge. As a matter of fact, many 
members of legislative bodies are a hindrance rather 
than a help because they lack a knowledge of mind 
action.” 

“So, you’d have them go to school to prepare 
themselves for their legislative duties, would you?” 

“I certainly would, and that’s just what you are 
doing this minute if I may be egotistic enough to say 
so.” 

“Admitted,” Cowan responded, “but that doesn’t 
prove that all legislators need more education.” 

“No,” said Uncle Danny, “nor did I make my 
statement as sweeping as your implication would in- 
dicate. The man who aspires to statesmanship is a 
diligent student every waking hour of the day. 
There are those, however, that need more knowl- 
edge of the affairs concerning which they have to do. 
I recall the case of an ignorant boor who managed, 
somehow, to be elected to membership in our own 
board of education. He had but the most meager 
knowledge of books and would probably have con- 
sidered the Forum a new kind of breakfast food or 
plug tobacco. The only fact that saved the situa- 
tion was that he constituted a helpless and hopeless 
minority and, after he had got himself laughed at a 
few times, he had the grace to sit silent while the 
others did the work.” 


THE LEGISLATOR 


199 


“But how came it that such a man was elected ?” 

“My dear Honorable, he got the votes.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, just think how thoroughly 
inconsistent it is for such a man to be empowered 
to legislate on matters of which he knows absolutely 
nothing.” 

“Hold hard, there, Mr. Legislator, or you’ll be 
tabooed for unethical conduct. I beg you never to 
express such sentiments in the halls of legislation if 
you would avert ostracism. You will be expected 
to look upon your colleagues as omniscient and you 
will find it a species of treason to do otherwise.” 

“Was that the attitude of the other members 
toward the board member whose case you have 
cited ?” 

“Well, no, it wasn’t, but I wish you had not asked 
that question.” 

“But why?” Cowan questioned. 

“Because I was a member of the board at the 
time.” 

“Oho! So that’s where the shoe pinches, eh? 
Well, did you look upon your colleague as omnis- 
cient ?” 

“I certainly did not. I couldn’t and retain my 
self-respect.” 

“So you would have me lose my self-respect by 
not imitating your example?” 


200 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“But there were extenuating circumstances. He 
was such a solemn and hopeless ass that even angels 
would have smiled if they had happened to look his 
way in a board meeting.” 

“So if I can be certain that angels would smile 
in a given situation in the Legislature, I may do the 
same and still retain my self-respect ?” 

“Well, something like that. You will not go far 
astray in following the lead of the angels, if all re*- 
ports are true.” 

“So you think I may find some asininity lurking 
around legislative halls, do you ?” 

“I didn’t say that, but I have been trying to point 
out to you the way of danger.” 

“Check-mate! Say, Uncle Danny, that tongue of 
yours does have its sharp points, as well as strong 
ones.” 

“Well, you see, James, I’m still boy enough not to 
be able to take a dare.” 

“A fact that I am painfully conscious of. But I 
must give you the credit of rendering me more 
nearly immune to asininity because of this talk. If 
ever I should become possessed of any quality that 
approximates statesmanship I shall certainly hark 
back to this evening. I like your distinction between 
constructive and restrictive legislation and shall 
apply the principle throughout my legislative career. 


THE LEGISLATOR 


201 


Besides I shall apply that test to every measure that 
solicits my vote.” 

“Well, if you do that, you will never go far 
astray.” 

“I thank you, Uncle Danny, for your wise coun- 
sel and here and now pledge to you my word that 
Ell never introduce a bill for the extermination of 
musk-rats. Good night.” 


CHAPTER XII 


THE SCHOOL BOARD MEMBER 

“Come in, Charles,” said Uncle Danny, in his 
heartiest manner as Charles Thompson appeared 
at his door one evening. “I couldn’t really think 
that you would ignore your Uncle Danny in these 
momentous times. Sit there in that easy chair and 
spread out your thoughts and emotions for my crit- 
ical inspection. I’m no end glad to see you and, 
especially, since you are now a member of the board 
of education.” 

“Uncle Danny,” responded Thompson, “I note 
that your powers of divination are in statu quo , to 
use your favorite expression. You could always 
read my mind when I was a student and I see you 
haven’t lost the knack.” 

“Of course not,” said Uncle Danny. “Why 
should I? But, divination! Superannuated shoe- 
strings! There’s no divination about it. ’Tis just 
ordinary gumption. You came over here to talk 
of your duties as a newly elected member of the 
school board. Being a young man of intelligence 
202 


THE SCHOOL BOARD MEMBER 203 


you are striving to forecast the situation and hence 
this visit.’’ 

“Quite right, Sir Oracle,” laughed Thompson. 
“But enlighten me still further. What does a board 
member do?” 

“Do?” exploded Uncle Danny. “Do? Well, a 
lot of them do things for which they will have hard 
work to get forgiveness. Do? Some of them do 
things that it takes years to undo. Do ? Sometimes 
they do things that will never be incorporated in 
their obituary notices.” 

“Terrible!” ejaculated Thompson. “Uncle Danny, 
you haven’t adopted a diet of vitriol, have you?” 

“No, sir, nor dynamite, nor nitro-glycerine. A 
man needn’t fulminate when he’s telling the simple 
truth.” 

“And yet, Uncle Danny, your language seemed 
to contain just a dash of the essence of thunderbolt.” 

“I must have touched the accelerator inadver- 
tently. But I do become wrought up a bit now and 
then when I get thinking on the subject of school 
boards.” 

“And what, Uncle Danny, are the prime charac- 
teristics of the right sort of school board member?” 

“Sanity and honesty.” 

“What ! As simple as that ? In that case, I think 
I can qualify.” 


204 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“Don’t be too certain of that, my friend.” 

“You are certainly not indulging in flattery just 
now, Uncle Danny.” 

“It doesn’t seem very complimentary, I readily 
concede. But, at rare intervals, I have a spasm of 
truth-telling, and your evident confidence in me has 
induced the present outbreak.” 

“I implore you, Uncle Danny, let in the light.” 

“Oh, very well. Fiat Lux. Some philosopher 
avers that we are all more or less insane on one or 
more subjects and it requires a nice balance of pow- 
ers to be sane all the while in planning for the admin- 
istration of schools. Again, a great many people 
seem to think that honesty is an expression of the 
relation between myself and my neighbor.” 

“Well, isn’t it?” asked Thompson. 

“Verily not,” said Uncle Danny. Then after a 
pause that was truly eloquent he continued. “Hon- 
esty, Charles, is an expression of the relation that 
subsists between me and myself. If I can keep that 
relation right, my neighbor’s interests will never 
suffer at my hands. The honest man is one who 
can look himself straight in the eyes for three min- 
utes and never blink. If he can do that he is either 
honest, or else such a calloused sinner that the 
preacher might as well leave him and ply his trade 
elsewhere.” 


THE SCHOOL BOARD MEMBER 205 


“So you think, Uncle Danny/’ asked Thompson 
smiling, “that that is one test of a school board mem- 
ber, do you ?” 

“Yes, that and sanity.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, I wish you’d explain your 
conception of sanity in matters educational.” 

“Certainly, Charles, anything to oblige and to help 
you to get started right in your new field of en- 
deavor. Let me use you as an illustration.” 

“Very well, Uncle Danny; anything to oblige.” 

“Well, as I recall it, you were quite proficient in 
the sciences, as a student here in college, and, even 
yet, you probably think that the sciences outrank the 
other studies in importance.” 

“Guilty!” confessed Thompson. 

“Well, that being true, you will naturally think 
that every child should, in time, make science his 
major study, whether he has a natural aptitude for 
the study or not.” 

“I confess, Uncle Danny, that I have been think- 
ing that very thing.” 

“There you have it in a nut-shell,” replied Uncle 
Danny. “You look upon the child who does not 
incline to science as somewhat sub-normal, a little 
below par. Most men come into board membership 
with preconceived notions and proceed at once to 
modify the school procedure to fit their notions.” 


2o6 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“Oh, I see,” said Thompson, “and, therefore, they 
are insane.” 

“Soft pedal there, Charles. I didn’t say just 
that. Such men are one-sided, or lop-sided, and 
can see things only from their own angle. They 
fail to get the child’s point of view, and so fail to 
provide such school facilities as would aid the child 
to make the most and best of himself.” 

“Say, Uncle Danny, you ought to write a book on 
the subject of school boards.” 

“No use; they wouldn’t buy it, and wouldn’t read 
it if they did. I’d have to lure them in here and 
read it to them. The sane ones do the work all right 
as it is, and the others are quite satisfied with them- 
selves.” 

“So you admit that there are some sane ones ?” 

“Oh, bless you, yes, and they are the very salt 
of the earth. They can get the child’s point of view, 
the teacher’s point of view, and the parent’s point 
of view, and still not lose their own. But, let me 
tell you, Charles, it takes a big man and a sane one, 
too, to do that.” 

“I believe you, Uncle Danny, but I never heard 
it put just that way before.” 

“Wake up there, Nick, and see a man who is be- 
coming converted. We are having a revival under 
our own vine and fig-tree.” 

“Right you are, Uncle Danny, and the convert is 


THE SCHOOL BOARD MEMBER 207 


feeling better and better all the while, as, of course, 
he should.” 

"‘Very good, and the preacher feels encouraged. 
So let us resume. Once upon a time there was a 
little boy, named Charles Thompson, a bright and 
winsome little chap who was forever inquiring into 
the why of things. He wanted to know why the 
grass is green, why the sky is blue, what causes the 
brook to ripple and murmur, and why the grasshop- 
per has six legs. It put his parents and teachers to it 
to answer all his questions you may be sure. He 
didn’t care specially for music and drawing, because 
he was so busy thinking about flowers, insects, plants 
and animals. In college he was accounted one of the 
most proficient students of science. 

“Then he became a man but he did not put away 
childish things. He revels even now in all things 
scientific and regards other things with something 
of disdain. I was fond of him as a child, I was fond 
of him as a college student, and I am fond of him 
as a man. But I shouldn’t like to have all the men 
of this community just like him. We’d be over- 
Thompsonized. And, besides, he’d not be distinc- 
tive at all if all our men were Charles Thompsons. 
Recently, he was elected a member of our school 
board and I fear that he may incline to discontinue 
the teaching of music and drawing — ” 

“Down brakes, there, Uncle Danny, he’ll do noth- 


208 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


ing of the kind, not after such an amiable grilling 
as you have given him. He might have felt that 
way if he hadn’t dropped in here this evening.” 

“And if he had,” asked Uncle Danny, “would you 
set up the claim that he possessed the full measure of 
sanity ?” 

“I catch the point, Uncle Danny. Even a scien- 
tifically inclined member of a school board can get 
that. You think that society needs a Johnny Jones 
with his music, a Mary Smith with her art, and a 
Tommy Brown with his mathematics quite as much 
as it needs Charles Thompson with his science. Isn’t 
that it?” 

“Yes,” replied Uncle Danny, “but not all of it. 
We need Johnny Jones even more than we need his 
music but we need the music as a means of making 
of him the best possible Johnny Jones. If you 
should insist upon forcing the diet that you enjoy 
upon Johnny he might not thrive upon it and so 
would never attain his full growth. In that case 
society would be the loser because there was not 
sanity enough in the board of education to provide 
for the native dispositions and individualities of all 
the pupils.” 

“And again I applaud you, Uncle Danny, and 
proclaim you an effective and delightful means of 
grace.” 


THE SCHOOL BOARD MEMBER 209 


“Come alive there, Nick, and share in the floral 
distribution.” 

“Now, Uncle Danny, Ed like to hear you des- 
cant once more upon the theme of honesty. We 
rather veered away from that in our contemplation 
of sanity.” 

“Agreed!” enthused Uncle Danny. “I’m glad 
you recalled me to that theme. Let’s see, you have 
a little daughter in school, haven’t you ?” 

“Yes, Ruth.” 

“Who is her teacher ?” 

“Miss Benton — Miss Mary Benton. You know 
her?” 

“Oh, yes. I know Miss Benton. Good teacher, I 
understand.” 

“Yes, very; excellent. Ruth thinks Miss Benton 
is just about perfect.” 

“And what does Miss Benton think of Ruth?” 

“Well, I have really never inquired into that.” 

“You asked Ruth the very first day how she liked 
her teacher, didn’t you ?” 

“Yes, Uncle Danny, we did, but have assumed 
all the while that Miss 'Benton shares the opinion of 
her parents as to Ruth.” 

“A very common mistake, I assure you, and one 
that does the parents no credit. You have had a 
physician for the little one now and then?” 


2io UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“Yes, occasionally.” 

“Did you interrogate him as to her condition after 
the examination?” 

“Certainly, and most eagerly.” 

“Quite right and proper but — ” 

“But me no ‘huts’ Uncle Danny, for I am quite 
able to anticipate what you would say and stand 
convicted of negligence.” 

“And how about the honesty?” inquired Uncle 
Danny. 

“Yes, you may amend the indictment to include 
dishonesty.” 

“Now, we are making progress,” and Uncle 
Danny chuckled. 

“Yes,” replied Thompson, “but our progress im- 
poses upon me a high degree of discomfort.” 

“Which proves that your soul is expanding,” 
flashed Uncle Danny. Then more deliberately he 
asked, “How much does the physician charge for 
each of his visits?” 

“Two dollars.” 

“How long does he stay?” 

“Oh, something like ten or fifteen minutes.” 

“You don’t think his charges are excessive, do 
you ?” 

“Oh, not at all. We are so happy when Ruth 


THE SCHOOL BOARD MEMBER 21 1 


recovers that the doctor’s bill seems a mere baga- 
telle.” 

“Do you regard Miss Benton as expert in her line 
as the physician in his ?” 

“Why, I really never thought of that, but I dare 
say she is.” 

“Yes, I, too, dare say she is and I’m quite of the 
opinion that this is worth thinking of. Do you 
know what Miss Benton’s salary is?” 

“Yes, one of the board members told me she re- 
ceives fifty dollars a month.” 

“I’d wager a hair from Nick’s tail that he was 
suggesting retrenchment when he told you.” 

“You are quite right, Uncle Danny, he was.” 

“And you agreed with him?” 

“Well — er, yes, I did.” 

“Of course, you did. Retrenchment is the very 
first germ to bite a board member. Every fellow 
thinks he is elected to save money.” 

“Well, isn’t he?” 

“Not by a million kilometers,” Uncle Danny re- 
torted. 

“For what else, pray?” 

“Why to spend money ; to spend more money ; and 
then to get more money to spend. If you chaps 
were elected to save money, the matter would be 


212 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


simplicity itself. You could close the schools and so 
save it all.” 

“Uncle Danny, your logic seems conclusive but 
I’m sure there must be a flaw in it somewhere.” 

“Well, you might take a day off and look for the 
flaw. But, what is the length of the school year?” 

“Nine months.” 

“So Miss Benton receives four hundred fifty dol- 
lars for a year’s work. Is that right ?” 

“Yes, Uncle Danny, you shine resplendent in the 
domain of multiplication.” 

“I’m equally expert in long division and have 
discovered that for each of the three hundred sixty- 
five days of the year Miss Benton has a fraction 
more than one dollar and twenty-three cents for all 
expenses, boarding, clothing, books, summer school, 
and incidentals.” 

“But, Uncle Danny, she boards at home.” 

“I thought I’d trap you into saying that. You 
have been effectively coached by members of the 
board. I can see that clearly. So only such teach- 
ers as board at home are eligible to positions in our 
schools. Is that the way of it?” 

“Not at all, Uncle Danny, not at all.” 

“But, suppose Miss Benton were paying for her 
room and boarding, with accessories, how much do 
you think it would cost her?” 


THE SCHOOL BOARD MEMBER 213 

“Not less than five dollars a week at the very 
least,” Thompson replied. 

“Just so, and that would aggregate two hundred 
sixty dollars a year which would leave a balance of 
one hundred ninety dollars for all other expenses. 
Is that honest? Or is it honest to compel Miss 
Benton’s parents to support her, in the main, that 
she may teach your child? Is it honest to dole out 
to her for a whole day’s expenses only a little more 
than half of what you give to the physician for a 
visit of fifteen minutes? Is it honest to rank the 
physical part of your child so much above the mind 
and heart?” 

“I cry you mercy, Uncle Danny. I have all I 
can carry now, and more. I never imagined I was 
letting myself in for such a castigation when I 
asked for more light on the subject of honesty.” 

“Well,” and Uncle Danny laughed, “the blood be 
upon your own head. You invited the whirlwind 
and courted the lightning and so you must absolve 
me from blame in the matter. But I do think the 
castigation as you so aptly term it will inure to the 
benefit of our schools. By the way, Charles, that 
little girl of yours is a sweet child and Mary Benton 
loves her as her own.” 

“Why, how do you know that, Uncle Danny?” 

“Well, Mary comes over here quite often to talk 


214 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


over school affairs with me, and, besides, I fre- 
quently visit her school and never fail to see Ruth 
and make inquiries about her and her progress.” 

“And here I’ve never visited the school and 
scarcely know Miss Benton.” 

“Well, she’s worth knowing,” replied Uncle 
Danny, “and you’ve been missing something. But I 
am wondering if you don’t sometimes put Ruth to 
bed at night.” 

“Oh, very often, and ’tis a great lark for both of 
us.” 

“Just as it ought to be,” said Uncle Danny. “Well, 
the next time you have a lark of that kind I wish 
you’d sit on the edge of the bed and keep your gaze 
fastened upon her until she drifts away into dream- 
land.” 

“But, whatever for, Uncle Danny?” 

“Oh, it will be good for your soul. As you sit 
there watching her I wish you’d ask yourself what 
sort of teachers you want her to have all through 
her school life, what kind of a school-room you’d 
like to have for her during the time, what sort of 
books and equipment you think she is worthy of, 
what knowledges you’d like to have her acquire, and 
what sort of environment, in general, you’d wish for 
her.” 

“And then what, Uncle Danny?” 


THE SCHOOL BOARD MEMBER 2 15 


“Then it will be recess-time and the little boy may 
run out to play.” 

“What game shall the little boy play, Uncle 
Danny ?” 

“The game of make-believe.” 

“And how is that game played ?” 

“Why, make believe that every child is as dear to 
its parents as Ruth is to hers — that every other child 
has the same right to the best teachers, and, in short, 
the best of everything pertaining to school that you 
wish for your own child.” 

“That’s another phase of your conception of hon- 
esty, is it, Uncle Danny?” 

“It certainly is. When you are looking into the 
face of Ruth lying there in her bed you are looking 
at yourself, and your attitude toward this other self 
must be your attitude toward your neighbor and 
your neighbor’s child, if you are actuated by the 
feeling for downright honesty. You want the best 
teachers for Ruth, not the cheapest ones, the best 
books for Ruth and not the cheapest ones, and the 
best environment for Ruth, not the cheapest.” 

“Uncle Danny, you are certainly a logician as 
well as a philosopher and friend. I see my duty as 
a board member now as never before.” 

“Good,” exclaimed Uncle Danny. “I now real- 
ize, since that is true, that I have not lived in vain. 


216 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


Patriotism forevermore implies sacrifice, and a 
patriotic board member must give his time and his 
strength generously without hope of other reward 
than the satisfaction of seeing his neighbor’s child 
have the right sort of life in school as well as out. 
I have no patience with the doctor who uses his 
membership on the board of education to win more 
patients or the merchant to gain a greater volume 
of trade. They are polite tyrants and not patriotic 
members. And here endeth the lesson on honesty.” 

“Long live Uncle Danny,” was Thompson’s ex- 
clamation of applause. 

“Wait a moment, brother. This volume has an 
appendix,” Uncle Danny responded. 

“Very well, Uncle Danny, by all means let us have 
the appendix. My corns can not hurt any worse 
for a little more tramping and I may as well take 
the full treatment, now that I have survived it so 
far.” 

“Well,” continued Uncle Danny, “there ought to 
be an educational test applied to every candidate for 
membership to a board of education. It is incon- 
gruous for a man to have a vote on school matters 
in which he has had no experience. How in the 
world can a man vote intelligently on the subject of 
algebra or chemistry who has never studied them? 
If a man has never attended a high school he must 


THE SCHOOL BOARD MEMBER 217 


depend upon some one else for his opinions on high- 
school work and that renders him a nonentity or, at 
best, a mere echo, and the school regime is too im- 
portant to depend upon echoes.’’ 

“But, Uncle Danny, where does democracy come 
in on your novel scheme ?” 

“As to that,” Uncle Danny replied, “democracy 
will step up to a higher plane and will be all the 
better for the elevation. Impose such a test as I 
have indicated, and you put a premium upon board 
membership and, at the same time, stimulate the 
work of the school by serving notice that the un- 
educated man is barred.” 

“I’m glad, Uncle Danny, that on that score, at 
least, I can qualify. But is there anything else on 
which I specially need coaching?” 

“Yes, just one thing more, and that is the humani- 
tarian aspect of school work. We shall never have 
things right so long as we overcrowd our school- 
rooms. Twenty pupils ought to be the maximum 
number of pupils for any teacher, if we are to foster 
the individuality of the children and relieve the 
teacher from insidious suicide. We want our teach- 
ers to be bright, alert, healthy, animated, and happy, 
and yet we drag them down with the care of thirty- 
five or forty pupils. This is nothing short of cruelty 
to the teacher and positively unfair to the children. 


218 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


Then, along with this reform toward civilization, 
we should forever banish the rigid desk in which we 
imprison the bodies and spirits of the pupils. These 
desks restrict their freedom and freedom is one of 
the prime qualities in education.” 

“I see, I see,” said Thompson at length, “just as I 
see many things that had never occurred to me as 
I have tried to forecast my duties as a member of 
the board, and I hope, Uncle Danny, that you will 
watch my career closely that you may realize that 
your efforts in behalf of a saner administration of 
school affairs will have my heartiest support. Only 
so shall I be able to reveal to you my gratitude for 
this evening. I hope you may come to know that I 
am playing your game of make-believe to the profit 
of all the children. Good night.” 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE RURAL TEACHER 

“Uncle Danny/' said Louise Maynard as they 
sat together one summer evening on the spacious 
veranda of the farm home of Homer Cook, “I do 
wish you'd regale me with one of the lessons in 
pedagogy for which you are so famous." 

“Famous?" exploded Uncle Danny. “Who put 
such nonsense as that into your beautiful, even if 
empty, head?" 

“Why, Mary Benton, of course. Who else? She 
says you’re a dear when it comes to telling folks how 
to teach school.” 

“What! Mary Benton? Did that pert mite of 
impertinence incarnate have the effrontery to apply 
such an opprobrious epithet as that to me?" 

“She did, indeed, and I glory in her effrontery," 
replied Louise. 

“What! Et tu Brute? And you take sides with 
that defamatory Benton person?" 

“Oh, not violently; at least, not yet. I'm sus- 
pending judgment until I find out whether you are 
219 


220 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


going to give me the lesson in pedagogy of which I 
stand in such dire need.” 

“Aha! Coercion I see. You bear a flag of truce 
and unless I capitulate, you will fire when you are 
ready, Gridley! I suppose you call that an ulti- 
matum, eh? Well, let me tell you something in the 
strictest confidence: You and Mary Benton are both 
in greater need of a lesson in decorum than of peda- 
gogy. Think of it! Two girls like you calling a 
susceptible fledgling like me a ‘dear/ Did any one 
overhear you?” 

“Yes, indeed, quite a few. In fact Mary and I 
are your publicity agents. But be composed, Sir 
Fledgling. You can live it down if you are circum- 
spect from now on and begin right away telling me 
how to teach school.” 

“Oh, Persistency ! Thy name is Louise Maynard. 
But, look here, young woman, isn’t your school 
closed for this year?” 

“Why, of course, it is, oh, thou retarded and 
benighted one.” 

“Well, then, thou pestiferous and epithetical bag- 
gage, what in the name of Pestalozzi, Froebel, and 
Nathan Schaeffer, are you bothering your head 
about pedagogy now for?” 

“Who are these chaps whose impressive names 
you bandy about so glibly ?” 


THE RURAL TEACHER 


221 


“Oh, friends of mine whose acquaintance you will 
do well to cultivate.” 

“Oh, well, there’s time enough for that. What I 
want now is pedagogical treatment in anticipation of 
my work next year, for I would break the news to 
you gently that I have been re-elected.” 

“So they’re giving you another chance to make 
good, are they?” 

“Sir!” 

“Well,” continued Uncle Danny, after his laughter 
had subsided, “if you are so anxious for a cargo of 
pedagogy, why aren’t you attending some summer 
school ?” 

“I can easily enlighten you on that subject. If I 
can only manage to extract my cargo of pedagogy 
from your vast store-house I’ll save the tuition fee 
at the summer school. Besides, I’m busy,” she re- 
sponded. 

“Busy? Busy at what?” and Uncle Danny’s 
laughter echoed in the grove across the road. 

“Why, Sir Inquisitive, I’m busy earning my board 
and keep.” 

“Did you say earning?” 

“Yes, sir, I said earning and I meant earning.” 

“And what do you do, pray, by way of manifest- 
ing this vast earning power?” he asked. 

“Well, sir, I ought to resent the implication in 


222 UNCLE DANNY'S NEIGHBORS 


your word vast but my inherent amiability inter- 
dicts resentment, just for the present, for I want you 
to know that I cook, sweep, dust, wash dishes, make 
beds, bake bread, milk cows, gather eggs, help with 
the weekly washing, and, sometimes, while I’m rest- 
ing, pull weeds in the garden. ” 

“Help! Help!” roared Uncle Danny so lustily 
that Nick was aroused from his slumbers on the rug 
and set up a furious barking by way of participating 
in the general excitement. The noise evoked the 
presence of Mrs. Cook, who made instant inquiry as 
to the cause of the hubbub and it fell to Uncle Danny 
to make the needful explanation. At the conclusion 
of his recital Mrs. Cook with amiable ardor said, 
“Yes, Uncle Danny, she does all that and more. It 
is really astonishing how much work she can turn 
out in a day; and the best of it is she never lets it 
ruffle her temper, but seems to think she is having 
a lark all the while.” 

“It is a lark,” replied Louise. 

“Most girls would call it a raven or some other 
bird of ill-omen,” laughed Uncle Danny. 

“Not Louise,” said Mrs. Cook. “She's another 
Polly anna and keeps us all in a state of gladness no 
matter how hard the work is.” 

“Why, that's the way to make the work easy,” 
Louise volunteered. 


THE RURAL TEACHER 


“Look here, young lady, I wish we might achieve 
a universal acceptance of your gospel of work by the 
world and the people thereof,” said Uncle Danny 
with his significant chuckle. 

“Wherefore, Uncle Danny?” Louise asked. 

“Why for the best of reasons,” Uncle Danny 
made answer. “If people could only work in a per- 
petual state of gladness they would do better work 
and more of it. You must have noted that fact in 
your school work. When you see a pupil — ” 

“Just a moment, Uncle Danny,” interrupted Mrs. 
Cook. “If the teachers’ institute is in session I’ll 
ask to be excused and shall retire into the interior.” 

“And leave me to bear it all alone ?” asked Louise. 

“Oh, you’ll survive it, I dare say,” replied Mrs. 
Cook. “You are richly endowed with the power of 
endurance.” 

“Madam,” said Uncle Danny with feigned irri- 
tation, “I take it that you realize that I am a guest 
in your home.” 

“I do, indeed,” she replied, “and I thought I made 
it clear that Louise has taught me to be glad even in 
the most trying ordeals.” 

“Nick, bite that awful woman,” roared Uncle 
Danny as Mrs. Cook, laughing, rushed into the 
house. 

“Was ever a poor defenseless man so put upon by 


224 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


a pack of women?” and Uncle Danny groaned in 
mock seriousness. 

“You poor man,” sympathized Louise. “I fear 
me that all this feminine persecution may stunt your 
growth or make you a misanthrope, or even a 
woman-hater.” 

“Possibly I may be able to avert such a dire calam- 
ity,” he responded, “if I’ll only imbibe a large intake 
of gladness from your glad presence.” 

“Hooray !” she cried. “Let us bark and frisk and 
make merry, Nick, for Uncle Danny is himself 
again. Let’s see, what was it you were saying when 
the excitement began ? Oh, yes, you were speaking 
of enjoying work.” 

“Yes, so I was,” he replied. “Elbert Hubbard 
once said that ‘Art is the expression of a man’s joy 
in his work,’ and I like the sentiment. A boy will 
do his arithmetic well and artistically if you only 
see to it that he is enjoying himself while doing it. 
If you are enjoying yourself while washing the 
dishes you will do the work better and complete it 
in shorter time.” 

“That’s true as true, Uncle Danny. I have taken 
over into my kindly care a bed of lettuce out in the 
garden, and I keep it absolutely innocent of weeds 
and go out every morning just to enjoy myself look- 


THE RURAL TEACHER 


225 


ing at it. I suppose I’ll come to be a lettuce-artist 
all in good time.” 

“You are near the promised land right now, young 
lady,” said he, “for the gladness of your tones pro- 
claims you artistic. Now, if you can keep your 
pupils feeling the same sort of gladness over cube 
root and passive voice that you experience when 
working in your lettuce-bed they’ll become cube-root 
and passive-voice artists.” 

“Why sure enough, Uncle Danny ; of course, they 
will. I never thought of it in that way, however. 
Why, that’s as good as pedagogy.” 

“As good as pedagogy, indeed ! Why, bless your 
heart, child, that is pedagogy, bed-rock pedagogy, 
and of the very best quality.” 

“Why don’t they print that kind of pedagogy in 
the books, then ?” she asked earnestly. 

“Oh, give me something easy, won’t you ? I sup- 
pose these chaps who write the books never felt the 
joy of a lettuce-bed. If they had, they’d write works 
that people could understand and put into practise.” 

“Why don’t you write a book on pedagogy ?” 

“I hope to do so some day, when I’ve worked out 
some of my theories on you and Mary Benton.” 

“So we are specimens in your pedagogical labora- 
tory, are we? Well, I like that.” 


226 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“So do I,” he laughed. “Now, Louise, I’d like to 
learn, if you feel free to tell me, why you are spend- 
ing your vacation here on the farm. Oh, I’m well 
aware that all the members of this Cook family are 
refined gold and all that, and that your lot is cast in 
a delightful environment, but there must have been 
something else in your thought when you came to 
your decision.” 

'‘Indeed there was, Uncle Danny, and I’m glad to 
reveal to you the whole matter, without reservation. 
Do you think you can stand the shock?” 

“I’ll try to be heroic,” he replied. 

“Well, I want to become country-minded,” she 
explained. “You see, Uncle Danny, I was reared 
in town and knew nothing of country life before 
coming to live in this charming home. At first, I 
seemed quite out of it all, and it made me uncom- 
fortable. I didn’t understand the language of the 
farm, and so could not take an intelligent part in the 
conversation of the family here or of my pupils at 
school. So I determined that I’d learn the language 
at all hazards and here I am in my linguistic quest 
and having the best time an unsophisticated school- 
ma’am ever had.” 

“Bravo!” cried Uncle Danny. “Why, I'm proud 
of you! You have the whole gospel of pedagogy in 
a corner and it just can’t escape. That’s quintessen- 


THE RURAL TEACHER 


227 


tial pedagogy. In sooth, you have the high-brows 
backed off the stage.” 

“Mercy, Uncle Danny, aren’t you using slang?” 

“Oh, am I? Well, you see I call it reversion to 
type. Our ancestors, we are told, were monkeys, 
and had a language of their own as they chattered 
and chaffed among the branches of the trees. 
When I become excited I forget that I am civilized 
and revert to the monkey-language of my forebears. 
That explanation ought to condone the offense.” 

“Uncle Danny, I really believe you could explain 
away original sin if you found you had any of that 
commodity lurking anywhere in your interior de- 
partment.” 

“Well, my dear, that would be an easy way to 
get rid of the thing, or stuff, or whatever it is. But, 
really, I must commend your plan of learning your 
pedagogy by the laboratory method. I can plainly 
see that, next year, you will be able to speak the 
language of your pupils and that will make them 
glad as well as yourself. You are trying to lead 
them over into your world of thinking, of aspira- 
tions, of feeling, and of work, and, in order to do 
this, you are going over into their world. So, you 
will be able to lead them out of their world into 
yours just as Moses led the Children of Israel out 
of Egypt. First of all, he had to know them and 


22 8 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


their language in order to become a real leader of 
them. Some teachers try to drive their pupils out 
of Egypt simply because they haven’t learned the 
knack of leading and then, when the boys and girls 
balk, they bombard them with epithets. Then the 
superintendent or school board must come in to 
quell the riot — ” 

“Uncle Danny, you certainly have the gift of 
serving your pedagogical pabulum in picturesque 
style. I like both the form and the taste.” 

“Thank you, kind lady, for your delicious cookie. 
But, again, I rise to remark that your pupils will eat 
out of your hand next year because you will be one 
of them in knowledge, interest, and feeling, and 
they will gladly follow your lead. When you talk 
with knowledge about potatoes, corn, cows, pigs, 
and chickens — ” 

“Don’t forget the cherries, Uncle Danny.” 

“Cherries? I haven’t heard tell of any cherries. 
There are no cherries in the picture so far.” 

“Well, there will be. Know, then, kind sir, that 
I, even I, picked a bushel of cherries right off the 
trees, pitted those self-same cherries, and canned 
them, too. No help had I at all in this great enter- 
prise and I am proud of my achievement. Of 
course, Mother Cook showed me how, but I did all 
the work myself. And you are to have at least 


THE RURAL TEACHER 


229 


one can of my beautiful cherries for your very 
own.” 

“You express yourself most lucidly, my pastoral 
friend, and I take great pleasure in your verbal offer- 
ings and shall have no less pleasure when the can 
is opened and the cherries billow forth. They will 
recall to me the Red Sea and will remind me how ex- 
pert you are in leading your folks out of their Egypt 
and they and I will call down blessings upon you 
for learning the cherry language.” 

“Well, upon my word, Uncle Danny, I never 
imagined that such a simple statement as I made 
anent a can of cherries would open the flood-gates 
for such a linguistic deluge.” 

“Well, you see, my mouth began to water and — ” 

“Uncle Danny, will you kindly escort Miss Louise 
Maynard into the parlor ?” interrupted Esther Cook, 
the daughter of the house, who at that moment ap- 
peared at the door and spoke in tones of one having 
authority. “We have all been waiting for an hour 
for you two pedagogues to finish your shop talk 
so that Louise might play for us.” 

“Oh, very well, Miss Autocrat,” replied Uncle 
Danny, rising, “since you command we can do no 
less than obey. But, if you think we have exhausted 
the subject of pedagogy, you are sadly mistaken, and 
I promise myself the pleasure of another pedagogical 


2 3 o UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


session to-morrow evening. Now, Louise, let us see 
whether you are as adept at the piano as you are 
in a cherry orchard.” 

“You’ll very soon be satisfied on that point, 
Uncle Danny,” Esther replied, “for she is accounted 
a wonder in these parts. How she has ever learned 
to play so well with all the other things she has ac- 
complished is more than I can make out. She has 
reduced me to the plane of an amateur. But come 
and know for yourself.” 

During the next half hour Esther’s prediction 
was fully verified and her praise of Louise’s skill 
was abundantly justified. She played as a bird 
sings, joyously, naturally. Her soul streamed out 
through her fingers and thus gave a feeling of exal- 
tation to all her auditors. She accepted their thanks 
and congratulations with becoming ease and grace 
and then advanced to other topics of conversation as 
if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Her 
attitude won Uncle Danny completely and he found 
himself inwardly congratulating the girls and boys 
of that community upon their good fortune in being 
privileged to live in such an atmosphere as Miss 
Maynard would inevitably generate. 

The conversation, at length, turned to country 
life and Uncle Danny became expansive in sound- 
ing the praises of the appointments of the Cook 


THE RURAL TEACHER 


231 


home, extolling, particularly, the electric lighting 
system which had but recently been installed. 
Whereupon Mr. Cook explained, “You see, Uncle 
Danny, we have been contemplating the installation 
of such a system for some time but were awaiting 
its development to something approaching perfec- 
tion. We find it quite a success now and eminently 
satis factory.” 

“Indeed, it is, Uncle Danny,” said Mrs. Cook, 
“and you can scarcely imagine what a change it has 
wrought upon our dispositions.” 

“What,” exclaimed Uncle Danny, “it has changed 
your dispositions? Fair hostess, I need more light, 
at this moment, than your modern electric system 
can possibly afford. Will you not kindly illuminate 
my benighted intellect with the effulgence of your 
superior wisdom ? What, in the name of Thomas A. 
Edison, has this new system of lighting got to do 
with your dispositions ?” 

“Now, mother,” said George, the fine up-standing 
nineteen-year-old boy of the family, “you have a 
chance to pit your philosophy against a philosopher 
who is town-bred. Do try to uphold the family 
name. But bear in mind that your protagonist is a 
college professor and you will need to use language 
that is simple and — ” 

“Here, Nick, do your duty,” exclaimed Uncle 


232 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


Danny. “Go right over there and bite a pound of 
flesh from the calf of that fresh upstart’s leg. He 
needs to be reduced. Never you mind, young man. 
Just wait till you come into my class again and I’ll 
teach you some other things besides the humanities.” 

“Oh, all right, Uncle Danny,” replied George. “It 
will not be the first time you have given me gratui- 
tous treatment. But go on, mother. This .is your 
inning.” 

“Small chance for a mere woman,” she said, 
“when loquacious men once get the floor.” 

“Hear! Hear!” cried Homer Cook while Nick 
cavorted about barking furiously to accentuate the 
general hilarity. 

“The men and dog will now subside and give the 
women a chance,” said Esther. “Now, go on, 
mother, and smother this college person with your 
sage philosophy.” 

“Well, you see, Uncle Danny, or, at least, you 
will, I hope, by the time I have concluded this disser- 
tation, that life requires light. Where light is, there 
life abounds. Darkness makes for gloom, and, 
therefore, for the absence of abounding, joyous life. 
People and other flowers — ” 

“Rah! Rah! Rah!” cried George. “People and 
other flowers. Pretty good, mother. That lets me 


THE RURAL TEACHER 


233 


“Flourish in the light,” continued Mrs. Cook, 
ignoring the interruption of George. “During the 
day we were all cheerful and happy, and especially 
after Louise came into the home as a source of joy- 
ous light — ” 

“Three cheers for the ‘source of joyous light/ ” 
roared George, “and a tiger!” 

“But,” she continued, “when night came and we 
were doomed to the eclipse produced by a dim, 
smoking lamp, we became silent and morose. Con- 
versation became constrained and reading was 
well-nigh impossible. But since our light plant was 
installed — ” 

“I move to make it unanimous,” cried Uncle 
Danny. “I’m a convert to the gospel of light. Long 
live the light plant and the tribe of Cook!” 

“But, wait a minute, Uncle Danny,” she contin- 
ued, “we haven’t come to the ‘finally brethren’ yet. 

I would fain descant somewhat upon the theme of 
subjective light for your edification.” 

“Go to it, mother!” roared George. “Now you 
have him on the hip. Give it to him hard. He’s 
abused your beloved son no end of times, and here’s 
where the law of compensation gets in its work. 
Give him a heroic dose of subjective light. He 
needs it.” 

“Pardon my wayward and irreverent son, Uncle 


234 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


Danny,” she responded in level tones, '‘but the sins 
of the father, you know — ” 

"Police!” roared Homer Cook, springing from his 
chair. 

"Votes for women!” cried Louise, and seizing 
Esther from her sitting posture they danced about 
the room in fine abandon while Nick furnished the 
applause. 

In time the storm abated and Mrs. Cook resumed. 
"If I may now have the undivided attention of this 
very courteous audience I should like to remark that 
subjective light is ofttimes induced by objective 
light. I take it that the bright light of this room is 
seductively responsible for the good cheer of the 
present company. But, still further, subjective 
light is very often a sequence of personal experi- 
ences. Before we had our new plant and the motor 
attachment by means of which we do our washing, 
our pumping, our churning, and the like, our per- 
sonal experiences were such that the subjective light 
was quenched by physical weariness. Whereas, now 
— but you can see for yourself, Uncle Danny, there 
isn’t one of this company who acts as if he had done 
a stroke of work this day, — all because we have 
machinery to do the hard work and that fact pre- 
disposes us all to the generation of subjective light.” 

"Mother forever!” cried George. "There, Uncle 


THE RURAL TEACHER 


235 


Danny. Take that cargo back to town with you 
when you go and see what you can make of it. But 
keep in mind that it is protected by copyright and if 
you ever attempt to work it off on us in class I’ll 
divulge the source of your information. Get me?” 

“Why, yes, I get you,” drawled Uncle Danny, 
“and I’ll get you many times more before you grad- 
uate.” 

“If he ever does,” ejaculated Esther. 

“And whyever not?” queried Louise. “Of course, 
he’ll graduate.” 

“Well,” said Esther, “he’s becoming so obsessed 
with this cooperative farming scheme that he and 
father have devised or evolved that I can’t see how 
he can get away from home long enough to gradu- 
ate.” 

“Do my ears deceive me?” asked Uncle Danny. 
“What is this cooperative farming scheme that this 
comely female has suggested?” 

“Oh,” said Esther, “Dad and Boy have effected a 
partnership of some sort so as to obviate the neces- 
sity of Boy’s asking Dad for spending money.” 

“And a good plan it is,” explained Mrs. Cook. 
“I wish all fathers were as sensible as my husband.” 

“Hooray!” cried George. “Good old dad! Good 
old momsey! If there is one of my parents that I 
love more than the other, it is the other one.” 


236 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“Look here, Pardner,” said Mr. Cook, “that 
sounds positively incoherent to me, and you must 
bear in mind that there is a college professor pres- 
ent.” 

“Bother the professor!” retorted George. “He’s 
no cannibal. I fear him not, especially out here on 
the farm. If we can keep him out here a few w r eeks 
I really think he may become civilized.” 

“Amen!” shouted Uncle Danny. 

“But, dad, about this love business, were you ever 
incoherent when you were talking of love?” George 
asked. 

“Better ask me, George,” said Mrs. Cook, “for I 
can speak ex cathedra ” 

“What does that mean, mother?” George ques- 
tioned. 

“There, I told you he’d have to go back to col- 
lege,” and Louise was the speaker. “Just to think, 
he’s been studying Latin with Uncle Danny and 
doesn’t know what a simple thing like that means.” 

“Why, you inpertinent excess baggage !” retorted 
Uncle Danny. “If that boy only knew one- tenth of 
the things that it is possible to learn in my class 
you’d certainly feel pretty lonesome in his presence.” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Louise replied coolly, “I 
don’t feel oppressively lonesome even in your august 
presence.” 


THE RURAL TEACHER 


237 


‘‘Ouch!” George exploded. “The Ahkund of 
Swat got swat; that’s swat.” 

“Is there no longer any reverence for old age in 
all this wide world ?” moaned Uncle Danny. 

“Old age, your collar-button!” exploded George 
in reply. “There is no old age on this farm. Here 
you find the fountain of perpetual youth. Just look 
at dad, there. He can drive a tractor all day and 
then, after a half hour in the bathroom, come forth 
as ruddy as a sixteen-year-old and as spick-and-span 
as Beau Brummel. And momsey there; why, she’s 
the Queen o’ the May three hundred and sixty-five 
and a fourth days every blessed year. And there’s 
Louise. No one knows how old she is, but there are 
times when she is as frisky as a girl.” 

“Avant!” cried Louise. “Can’t some one sup- 
press that too much animated lump of protoplasm?" 

“So, George,” said Uncle Danny, “I take it that 
you expect to be a farmer.” 

“For once you are right, Uncle Danny,” George 
replied. “I certainly do. Town is no place for me. 
Yes, I want all the languages and sciences that the 
college gives, and I can find use for all of them right 
here on the farm. The more mathematics and his- 
tory I know the better farmer I shall be. I can be 
a farmer and a man at one and the same time, if I 
have the situation sized up right. I can work eight 


238 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


hours a day, sleep eight hours a day, and still have 
eight hours each day to grow a soul. None of your 
offices, or banks, or factories for me. We have sky 
out here, Uncle Danny, both day and night, and I 
prefer sky to sky-scrapers. We have grass, too, and 
trees, and space, and these beat your stuffy city all 
hollow. We have things to eat, also, and mother 
and these two artists to cook them.” 

“Yes, Boy,” said Uncle Danny, “and you have 
God out here, too.” 

“Verily, Uncle Danny,” said George, “but, as to 
that, God is wherever my mother is.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE OLD LADY 

Not to know Aunt Serena was to argue one’s self 
unknown. One might not know Mrs. Serena May- 
nard but it was necessary to know Aunt Serena or 
a passport to the inner circle of her neighborhood 
was withheld. Uncle Danny had never seen her un- 
til they came face to face on the Cook yeranda. Yet 
he knew her and had known her for long. He had 
long since accepted her at the appraisement of Mary 
Benton and Louise Maynard, her granddaughter. 
When they met, therefore, on that balmy evening in 
the poetic twilight they met as friends and not, by 
any means, as strangers. The conversation pro- 
ceeded as if it were a continuation. Their spirits 
were attuned to each other and preliminary formali- 
ties were impossible. It is ever so with people who 
understand but never so with those who do not. 
Aunt Serena and Uncle Danny had understanding 
and that told the whole story. 

“Aunt Serena,” said Uncle Danny, “it would be 
easy to rhapsodize on this place and upon this even- 
ing.” 


2 39 


240 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“Now, wouldn’t it?” she replied. “But as to 
that, Uncle Danny, it were easy to rhapsodize upon 
life as a whole, this place and evening included.” 

“Which proves you an optimist,” Uncle Danny 
ventured. 

“Oh, that, of course ; but in my private dictionary 
optimism is a synonym for good sense,” she re- 
sponded. 

“I must have a copy of that dictionary if possible,” 
laughed Uncle Danny. 

“Not possible,” she answered, “and if it were 
you might not be able to read it. Every one must 
make his own dictionary, Uncle Danny. In fact, 
every person is a lexicographer, willy-nilly, and that 
constitutes his life-work.” 

“Nick,” said Uncle Danny, “you and I seem to 
be on the verge of a new definition of life. So you 
think, Aunt Serena, that life is the process of mak- 
ing a dictionary for one’s self ?” 

“Exactly so,” she replied, “and it is a most fascin- 
ating and exhilarating experience.” 

“You seem to find it so. Is that your fountain of 
perpetual youth ?” he asked. 

“Yea, verily,” she said, “and I can commend its 
salubrious waters. People who drink from this 
fountain cease to talk in terms of years and talk 
only in terms of days. To them each day is a new 


THE OLD LADY 


241 


day, fresh from the mint where days are coined, and 
differs essentially from all other days. Each day 
has a content all its own and, therefore, the dic- 
tionary grows a bit.” 

“Aha,” cried Uncle Danny, “methinks my feeble 
intellect begins to discern faint glimmerings of your 
secret of making a lexicon.” 

“ ’Tis no secret of mine, Uncle Danny, or, if it is, 
Ed be glad to share it with others, if I only could. 
There’s no patent on it. I sometimes wish there 
were. It might serve to excite interest, to say the 
least. I can’t understand how people can think that 
to-day is a duplicate of yesterday, and I long to have 
them see their mistake. But if they can’t see it 
without help, then any help seems unavailing.” 

“There doesn’t seem to be any place in your phi- 
losophy for monotony, Aunt Serena.” 

“Monotony? Well, I have lived in this blessed 
world something more than seventy-nine years and 
haven’t discovered any monotony as yet. If ever 
I find life becoming a monotone I shall proceed to 
take myself in hand and shake myself up a bit. Why, 
Uncle Danny, there is no word ‘monotony’ in my 
dictionary, nor can the word ever get in without my 
consent. Each day is exactly what I make it, and I 
find each day entirely too short as it is without any- 
thing savoring of monotony.” 


2 4 a UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“But suppose, Aunt Serena, that you do the same 
thing in the same way — ” 

“But I don’t,” she flashed back. “That’s the very 
point. If I did, one day would be very like another. 
Some women grumble and complain about darning 
stockings, but I revel in it. I try a new way of doing 
it each time, or I make that a suitable occasion for 
learning a new bit of poetry or verses from the 
Bible and thus make darning stockings one of the 
alluring adventures of the day.” 

“How about washing dishes ?” he asked. 

“Uncle Danny,” she responded, “being a college 
professor you must have some acquaintance with the 
principle of geometrical ratio.” 

“A mere bowing acquaintance, Aunt Serena.” 

“Well, even with that you must realize that thous- 
ands upon thousands of combinations can be made 
of the number of different articles that enter into 
the process of dish-washing. Well, I try to work 
another one of those combinations each time and 
that keeps me delightfully entertained. Besides, I 
always treat myself to a choice bit of reading as a 
reward for good conduct after the dishes have been 
put away, and that anticipation serves to accelerate 
the process.” 

“You certainly are resourceful, Aunt Serena,” 
said Uncle Danny. 


THE OLD LADY 


243 


“Why shouldn’t I be? When the conscience is 
clean, the brain clear, the heart-action right, and the 
digestive organs doing their appointed work as they 
should, people ought to be resourceful. Sometimes 
I call the plates and things by names of historical 
characters when I am giving them their ablution 
and then I have great fun.” 

“That’s a new game to me,” said Uncle Danny. 

“Yes, youth has its disadvantages,” retorted Aunt 
Serena. 

“Did you hear that, Nick?” exploded Uncle 
Danny. “But, Aunt Serena, by what names do you 
call the dishes ?” 

“Well, that very much depends. The dainty cups, 
saucers, and spoons are called Florence Nightingale, 
Clara Barton, Frances Willard, Joan of Arc, Antig- 
one, and Queen Esther. But the pots, pans, and 
skillets I call Duke of Alva, Margaret of Anjou, 
Nero, General Weyler, and Herod, and then scrub 
them with religious zeal.” 

“Do you ever have a Benedict Arnold?” 

“Yes,” she answered. 

“What treatment do you give him?” 

“Turn on the hot water.” 

“You must be a diligent reader, Aunt Serena.” 

“That sounds very like a platitude to me, Uncle 
Danny, and proves that you are a school-teacher.” 


244 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“Guilty! But why?” asked he. 

“So many teachers whom I know seem to do so 
little reading themselves that they think I deserve a 
medal because I read books.” 

“Do you mean to tell me that you know teachers 
who are not readers?” 

“Oh, many of them, and so do you, Sir Inno- 
cence. When some of them do read a book they 
spread the news abroad with painful volubility. It 
seems to me that they might as well regale folks 
with accounts of their eating, their sleeping, and 
their breathing. They seem to have a craving for 
intellectuality rather than intelligence.” 

“Aha, I see,” said Uncle Danny, “you use words 
with discrimination.” 

“Certainly, or there’s no use using them at all,” 
she replied. 

“Just so. But how do you differentiate the intel- 
lectual teacher from the intelligent teacher?” 

“Why,” she replied, “the intellectual teacher is a 
sort of academic mummy who has accumulated a lot 
of cant phrases, but the intelligent teacher is broad 
awake and drinks in life at every pore and so has 
life to give out. If I had to sit in the class-room of 
some of these intellectuals I’d probably become vio- 
lent at some of their offerings of musty, cob-webby 
bromides.” 


THE OLD LADY 


245 


“ Glory be, Aunt Serena, you ought to be at the 
head of some normal school.” 

“That would be dangerous, Uncle Danny, for I’d 
certainly fracture some of their traditions. Besides, 
I have done and still do some missionary work in 
that line. Take my granddaughter, Louise, as a 
sample. That girl didn’t just happen, Uncle 
Danny.” 

“Well, no,” drawled Uncle Danny. “I shouldn’t 
say that such a fine girl as Louise is fortuitous.” 

“Indeed, no,” replied Aunt Serena. “She’s a 
product of blood, training, and atmosphere. I did 
my best to train her father so that he would select a 
genuine woman to be the mother of his children, 
and he did. Then these parents did the same for 
Louise, and among us we have created an atmos- 
phere of the right sort, and you know the result.” 

“Yea, verily, Aunt Serena, and applaud heartily. 
But, even yet, you, yourself, need explanation.” 

“Uncle Danny, you do not look so innocent as 
you sound. I am my own explanation. Just because 
you happen to know some women of eighty years 
who are querulous, misanthropic, pessimistic, and 
dyspeptic, you look upon me as an exception. But 
you are wrong. They are the exceptions. Tennyson 
wrote ‘Crossing the Bar’ at eighty-three and Michael 
Angelo chiseled the great Piet a at eighty, so why 


246 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


should I mope in a corner or be out of harmony with 
life at eighty? Why, Uncle Danny, I’m both living 
and alive.” 

“Yes, very much so,” he laughed. 

“The best explanation of me, perhaps,” she con- 
tinued, “is that I love children. I read their books 
to and with them; I play their games; and I live 
over my own childhood with them every day. That’s 
how I keep my youth.” 

“But your robust health, Aunt Serena. How do 
you explain that ?” 

“It doesn’t need explanation. It just is. The ill- 
health of many women who are my juniors is what 
needs explanation. They have ruined their stom- 
achs, their dispositions, and their chances for an 
agreeable old age by disobeying the tenets of sane 
living. They take into their stomachs the commodi- 
ties of the drug store instead of the meat shop, and 
then become afflicted with, too much introspection. 
They can’t think of anything but their ailments, 
poor souls, and thus become so disagreeable that 
people leave them to sit alone in a corner and mope 
out the rest of their days. That’s the blessedness 
of the reading-habit. If these poor unfortunates had 
only acquired this habit they would forget their 
ailments in their joy of reading Shakespeare, and 
the Bible. I think the Comedy of Errors will cure 


THE OLD LADY 


247 


almost any case of dyspepsia. I wish all the teachers 
in our schools could be made to realize that the read- 
ing-habit is the real antidote for disagreeable old 
age.” 

“A good definition and I’ll certainly disseminate 
it, Aunt Serena, with full credit to the author. And 
may I add that it is also an antidote for loneliness ?” 

“Yes, and with emphasis, Uncle Danny. Why, I 
don’t even require the services of a dog to keep me 
company.” 

“Ouch!” ejaculated Uncle Danny. “Come alive 
there, Nick, and help defend the family name and 
honor. We certainly must bring suit against this 
audacious person for defamation of character. But, 
at any rate, Aunt Serena, you certainly never feel the 
want of good society.” 

“Ah, Uncle Danny, that was very neatly turned, 
and I thank you. Indeed, no; I never lack society 
even when I am alone, and, if I did I’d be inexpress- 
ibly ashamed of myself. I’d feel it a deep humil- 
iation to be compelled to seek society. I aspire to be 
society, and, in all modesty, I can say that I am so- 
ciety. Children cry for me, and their parents seem 
to find me agreeable.” 

“But,” quizzed Uncle Danny, “can you manage to 
be agreeable at all times in spite of wind, weather, 
rumors of war, and failure of crops?” 


248 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“Oh, it isn’t so difficult. If I don’t feel agree- 
able I try to seem agreeable.” 

“Ah, a sort of 'assumed virtue though you have 
it not’ policy. Is that it?” he asked. 

“Rather,” she replied, “assume virtue in order to 
have it. The more agreeable I seem the more agree- 
able I feel and the more agreeable I feel the more 
agreeable I am.” 

“Did it ever occur to you, Aunt Serena, that you 
have discovered the principle of psychological per- 
petual motion ?” 

“Do you, by any chance, Unde Danny, happen to 
mean perpetual emotion?” 

“Amendment accepted,” he replied, “but it is 
psychological right enough. You read psychology I 
take it, Aunt Serena?” 

“Indeed, yes,” she responded, “I need it in my 
business.” 

“Just what is this business you speak of?” he 
queried. 

“Well, sir, if you will give loose rein to your 
prurient curiosity and drag my innermost secrets 
from me vi et armis, my business is to make each 
day worth while both to myself and others.” 

“What is the recipe, Aunt Serena? I’d like to 
have it.” 

“Oh, you have it right enough, or I’ve been mis- 


THE OLD LADY 


249 


informed. You and I both know that people soon 
grow tiresome who talk without saying anything. 
Long ago I was vaccinated for just that malady, and 
now my big aim is to make language the expression 
of thought and not mere effervescence.” 

“Well, Aunt Serena, I can’t think that you’ll ever 
be relegated to the chimney corner by the younger 
generation.” 

“All I can say to that, Uncle Danny, is that should 
that ever come to pass I shall know that it comes 
upon me as a punishment for my defection in fall- 
ing behind the procession. So, to avert such a 
calamity, I have been trying, for years, to essay the 
role of the drum-major and have been striving to 
lead the band.” 

“Hooray!” cried Uncle Danny, “I want to join 
the band.” 

“Very well, sir. I like your spirit and we must 
make a place for you. But I have understood that 
your specialty is manipulating a steam-roller.” 

“Oh, that is as may be,” he responded, “but I can 
also coo as gently as the sucking dove.” 

“Very well, then, you are a member of the band, 
and we’ll find some — ” 

“Goodness gracious sakes alive,” challenged 
Louise rushing out upon the veranda, “what in the 
name of Mozart, Bill Nye and Samantha Allen, do 


250 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


you two old last year’s birds’ nests find to talk about 
that you shun the society of cultivated people so 
long?” 

“This linguistic granddaughter of yours, Aunt 
Serena, is a most precipitate young person and needs 
heroic treatment,” retorted Uncle Danny, with 
affected seriousness. 

“Who placed you in the judgment-seat, Mr. Uncle 
Danny?” she flashed back. 

“Oh, I just scrambled in,” he replied. 

“That’s the school-teacher of it. I wonder if I’ll 
come to be like that ?” she queried. 

“Well, you certainly have some of the symptoms,” 
said Aunt Serena, “rushing out here as you did and 
taking your elders, if not betters, to task in that 
violent fashion because they seemed to prefer the 
society of each other to your own. That seemed a 
bit school-teachery to me.” 

“Poor abused granny!” replied Louise. “Come 
right into the house and we’ll play our duet for 
Uncle Danny and the Cook tribe, and that will make 
you feel better no matter how the others may feel. 
You see, Uncle Danny, how I calm her down when 
her soul gets mussed up. I lead her to the piano 
and let her show off her musical skill.” 

“Silly!” retorted Aunt Serena. 


THE OLD LADY 


25 1 


“Can she really play, Louise ?” asked Uncle 
Danny. 

“Come on in, granny, and let us show this boob 
professor what real music is. Can she play, Uncle 
Danny? Can she play? Why, I’m a puling infant 
by comparison. Why, man, I caught all my music 
from this dear old granny, only I’m not specially 
susceptible and have only a mild attack.” 

“Well, if that’s the way of it,” he responded 
affably, “I’ll try not to make a wry face while you 
two verdant amateurs agitate the keys.” 

And then they played. At the conclusion of their 
duet they were all taken aback by applause in the 
front yard which Esther discovered to be the trib- 
ute which an automobile party was paying to the 
two artists. Nor would they be appeased without a 
response to their encore, and not even then till Aunt 
Serena and Louise stood side by side before them 
under the electric light on the veranda. Their en- 
thusiasm reached the very limits of decorum when 
they came to realize that the exquisite music with 
which they had been regaled had flowed from the 
fingers of the beautiful white-haired lady and the 
charming granddaughter. 

“Aunt Serena,” said George when they had all 
resumed their chairs in the parlor, “I told you that 


252 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


the Cook ozone would tone you up. Now, really, 
you played fairly well for an amateur. If you keep 
up your practising you may learn to play yet. I’m 
hoping the time may come when I’ll be willing to 
recognize you when I meet you in polite society.” 

“Oh, you do, do you?” Aunt Serena replied. “And 
by what hocus-pocus do you hope to gain admission 
into this polite society you speak of ?” 

“George,” said Mr. Cook, “I’ve been trying, all 
your life, to teach you not to play with edge tools.” 

“Yes, my dear forebear, but there are a lot of 
things you have taught me that I’m trying to for- 
get,” replied George. 

“Touch!” cried Mrs. Cook. “And they named you 
Homer. I wonder how they ever came to do it?” 

“That’s easy,” Mr. Cook responded. “They named 
me Homer in anticipation of the great stores of wis- 
dom I am supposed to be accumulating through the 
influence of the lady who had sufficient compassion 
upon me to yield herself to the thraldom of the 
marriage bond.” 

“I can prove an alibi,” cried George. 

“Here, too,” echoed Esther. 

“Nick,” roared Uncle Danny, “come on in; the 
water’s fine. We have here a family row of colossal 
proportions. "Charge, Chester, charge! On, Stan- 
ley, on! Let loose the dogs of war!’ ” 


THE OLD LADY 


253 

“Careful, Uncle Danny, careful there. You're 
liable to have a seizure,” counseled Louise. “How 
often have I admonished you to study repose of 
character. Now, if you think your heart will stand 
the strain Ed like to give you the second chapter on 
pedagogy.” 

“Esther,” drawled Uncle Danny, “please have 
somebody page George Strayer, Will Bagley, John 
Dewey and Charley Judd. Some pedagogical doings 
are imminent right here and now and those worth- 
ies ought to be present.” 

“I think, Louise,” said Aunt Serena, “you’d bet- 
ter defer that second chapter till to-morrow. I want 
Uncle Danny to have his beauty sleep.” 

“Amen!” shouted George. 

“Saved!” said Uncle Danny. “But before I 
yield me to the seductive influence of Morpheus I’d 
like to say, Aunt Serena, that I’m proud of you and 
proud of myself for being proud of you. When I 
get home I’ll read again my De Senectute in mem- 
ory of you.” 

“Uncle Danny,” she replied, “there’s hope for you 
yet.” 


CHAPTER XV 


THE PICNIC 

June was reigning again in full splendor and 
Sugar Loaf was reveling in her robes of summer. 
Commencement week had passed but, here and there, 
visitors still lingered among their friends to prolong 
the pleasant taste in their hearts which the week 
had produced. Aunt Serena and Louise Maynard 
were guests in the Benton home and Guinevere 
now came and went in that home as freely as in 
her own. She was the other daughter of that house- 
hold, for Mr. and Mrs. Benton, as well as Mary, 
had made her their own. She had absorbed the 
qualities of their home and then the home had 
absorbed her whole-heartedly and unreservedly. 
Mary’s brother, Will, had returned from the West 
to have his annual vacation at commencement time 
in order to enjoy communion with friends and to see 
the town, its environs, and the people all at their 
best. 

The inevitableness of a picnic need not be dwelt 
upon. It just had to be, and it was. When three 
girls of fertile brains and abounding life foregather 
254 


THE PICNIC 


beneath one roof in mid- June a picnic amounts to a 
predestination. Nor is there need to enlarge upon 
the appointments of that picnic. Suffice it to say 
that Mary, Guinevere, and Louise constituted the 
committee of arrangements aided and abetted by 
sundry members of the community of the male va- 
riety. It is a fact, no less curious than incompre- 
hensible, that, in times of picnics, the male contin- 
gent of society decline from their high estate as “the 
lords of creation” and become the veriest vassals. 
They fetch and carry, in obedience to commands, 
and seem to regard their servitude as a rare privi- 
lege. This is one of the palpable contradictions in 
affairs mundane. 

The picnic was held, of course, upon the um- 
brageous summit of Sugar Loaf. No other place 
would have seemed either fitting or agreeable to the 
devotees of this eminence who constituted the pic- 
nic party. Automobiles were requisitioned for 
transportation purposes and chauffeurs seemed dis- 
tinctly prevalent. Aunt Serena rode up in state, you 
may believe, and Uncle Danny did no less, flanked 
on either side by Nick and Robert Hilton. How 
the girls reached their destination no one seemed 
to know. They were just there, and that was all, 
and, apparently, quite enough. To describe the feast 


256 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


itself one would need to use some large multiple of 
Riley’s stanza : 

“The jelly — the jam and the marmalade, 

And the cherry and quince preserves she made! 
And the sweet-sour pickles of peach and pear, 
With cinnamon in ’em, and all things rare! — 
And the more we ate was the more to spare, 
Out to Old Aunt Mary’s !” 

It needs to be told at this juncture that the feast 
was spread upon a table, a table of large dimensions, 
to be exact, and, withal, a most substantial one. 
There were camp chairs about this table, also, but 
at the two heads, for it had two heads, there were 
armchairs, one for Aunt Serena and the other for 
Uncle Danny. 

Tom Foster was much in evidence, a veritable 
major-general of leadership and resourcefulness. 
He was not the expansive Tom of the days of yore 
for his airiness had evaporated and the fundamental 
Tom now appeared. He was quiet, and gentle, and 
seemed to find his chief delight in looking to the 
comfort of others. His good nature bubbled forth, 
however, at every turn and suffused the entire com- 
pany. As Tom went hither and thither in his effi- 
cient way he encountered Uncle Danny and without 


THE PICNIC 


257 


preliminaries asked, “Uncle Danny, what sort of a 
girl is Louise Maynard ?” 

“About your size.” 

“As bad as that?” 

“No; as good as that.” 

“Say, Uncle Danny, pleasant weather we are hav- 
ing.” 

“Yes, very; and the early potatoes are looking 
fine.” 

“Ah, pastoral, bucolic, I see. Wherefore?” 

“I spend time at the Cook farm.” 

“Therefore, Miss Maynard. Is it not so?” 

“Exactly. You ought to go out sometime.” 

“Eve been.” 

“Oho, so you merely seek confirmation of your 
own judgment as to the aforesaid Louise May- 
nard ?” 

“Exactly.” 

“Judgment affirmed and confirmed,” said Uncle 
Danny as Tom went on his laughing way bearing a 
hamper toward the table. 

It fell to the lot of Will Benton and Guinevere to 
seek out wild flowers for the scheme of table decora- 
tions and Will accepted the commission with a de- 
gree of alacrity that caused a ripple of amusement 
among the bystanders. In the midst of their quest 
which was yielding gratifying returns, Will said 


258 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


haltingly to his companion, “Guinevere, I’m glad to 
have this time to ourselves, for I want to tell you 
just how often, I mean how much, I, well, I hardly 
know how to say it, but — ” 

“Stop it, Will; stop it this minute/’ she replied. 
“I’ll pick the flowers while you run down home to 
get the book you read that in. You need a few more 
rehearsals before you try to recite that to a sensitive 
young woman who — ” 

“Why, Guinevere, I — ” 

“Now, look here, Will Benton, if you are deter- 
mined to go over all that book-stuff to me please 
omit all the rest and begin at the place where you 
would think it a blessed privilege to pour out your 
heart’s blood for me, and how storm, and stress, and 
poverty, and all the rest — clean down to the foot of 
the page would all be endured with rapture to the 
nth degree for my sake.” 

“But, Guinevere, my dear — ” 

“Hold hard there, Will Benton. Spare your 
terms of endearment till a more convenient season.” 
“More convenient season — when will that be?” 
“Goose! When I’m Mrs. Will Benton, of course.” 
“But, Guinevere, I don’t understand.” 

“Of course you don’t, silly. Men are such dense 
things. Perhaps I should have told you before that 
I’m to be Mrs. Will Benton one of these days; but 


THE PICNIC 


259 


that has been one of the settled facts such a long 
time that I really forgot to mention it.” 

“This is so sudden!” he exclaimed. “But, Guin- 
evere, how did this wonderful thing become one of 
your settled facts?” 

“Why, stupid, it is written in the stars. You 
should have been studying astronomy all this while.” 

“Well, anyhow, I’ve discovered a star of the first 
magnitude right here on Sugar Loaf and — ” 

“Stop it ! Save all that pretty talk for our second 
wedding anniversary. On that occasion you can 
proceed to give a demonstration of pouring out 
your heart’s blood by building a fire in the kitchen 
stove, washing the dishes, and scrubbing the back 
porch ; and while pouring out your heart’s blood in 
that way you can entertain me by calling me a star 
of the first magnitude.” 

“All these things I solemnly agree to do, my hand 
upon my heart.” 

“Stupid! Your heart’s on the other side.” 

“ ’Tisn’t on either side. You have it.” 

“Good ! Oh, you’re coming on. I’ll make a man 
of you yet.” 

“May you have joy in this very laudable even if 
difficult enterprise. But, tell me, Guinevere, how did 
this all come to pass? How does it come that you 
are to marry me?” 


260 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


The birds were singing all about, the leaves rus- 
tling, and the flowers exhaling fragrance. 

“Well, if you must know. There isn’t another 
man on earth that I would marry. So, it became a 
question of either marrying you or remaining un- 
married and the vote was cast in your favor.” 

“But how and when did this all start?” 

“The first time I visited in the Benton home. I 
fell hopelessly in love with every blessed member 
of the family and made up my mind then and there 
that I’d be a Benton in name as well as in fact and 
I’ve never wavered in that resolve for a single 
minute.” 

“Blessed be all the saints, angels, and others all 
and sundry!” 

“And say, Will, would you mind kissing me just 
to prove that you hold no grudge?” 

“Well, I should—” 

And the birds kept right on singing. 

Never did a more fervent appeal ascend to the 
Throne than that which issued from the heart 
through the lips of the Reverend Simeon Borland as 
he invoked the divine blessing while the company 
stood in reverence about that picnic table. When 
they were seated Uncle Danny said in a quiet voice, 
“Mr. Borland, that invocation came from your 
heart.” 


THE PICNIC 


261 


“Yes, Uncle Danny, it did and — ” 

“Wait, Simeon/’ said Mrs. Borland, rising, “let 
me tell it. Uncle Danny, both you and all these 
good friends ought to leam what a wonderful thing 
you did for this good husband of mine the night 
you gave him that ‘spiritual massage,’ as he called 
it in recounting the affair to me. The change has 
been nothing short of wonderful and I bless you 
every day of my life. He is so big, so human, 
and—’’ 

“Yes,” cried Robert, “and he preaches better than 
he used to. I don’t go to sleep in church any more.” 

“And the heavens were opened,” replied Mr. Bor- 
land, “and the Lord spake to His servant through 
the lips of a child. Robert, I thank you and shall 
strive even more diligently in the future to avert 
somnolence.” 

“Where’s Miss Burke?” asked Tom as the feast 
proceeded. “I saw her about here a while back. ” 
“Why,” answered Mary, “she came upon us as I 
was pinning a rose on Theodore’s lapel — ” 

“Theodore! Well, I’ll be bumfuzzled!” cried 
Will. “Theodore ! Mother, did you hear what that 
slip of a daughter said? Theodore! Wow!” 

“Uncle Danny, be kind enough to place your foot 
upon that infant and suppress him. As I was try- 
ing to say, when Miss Burke saw me pinning that 


26 2 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


rose she made a bee-line down the hill, looking 
neither to the right nor to the left. Be it far from 
me to give voice to my suspicions.” 

“I think,” drawled Uncle Danny, “that for many 
moons Miss Burke has been angling in the circum- 
ambient atmosphere, and that rose episode con- 
vinced her that it wasn’t a nibble after all that she 
had got and she concluded to go home to read up 
on the subject of bait.” 

“Uncle Danny, whatever are you talking about?” 
asked Robert. 

“I think Mary might enlighten you, Robert,” 
Uncle Danny replied. “Or, certainly Aunt Serena. 
She can resolve all mysteries.” 

“Save and excepting Uncle Danny,” Aunt Serena 
responded. 

“Folks,” said Doctor Dunlevy, rising, “in the 
presence of this goodly company I’d like to take this 
occasion to make my humble and grateful acknowl- 
edgments to our friend and benefactor, Nick. He it 
was who first pointed out to me the way of light 
and right. Nick, I salute you. It was you who 
helped me descend from the airship in which I rode 
into this place. From my superior height I looked 
upon you in disdain and I now apologize. Through 
you, I, at length, discovered Uncle Danny, and 
through his blessed eyes I saw Mary Benton, who 


THE PICNIC 


263 

at this minute seems to be wearing a diamond ring 
for which she exchanged this rose. Nick, you were 
the harbinger of this happy day, and I salute you.” 

Then ensued a period of silence during which 
Mary left the table, went to where Nick lay, and 
gathered him into her arms. 

“Why, Mary Benton, you’re crying,” exclaimed 
Esther Cook. 

“Of course, I’m crying,” Mary replied, “and Pm 
glad of it. Some good day you’ll be crying for the 
same reason. I’d go this minute and hug Uncle 
Danny, but I’ve done that so often that I fear me he 
grows tired.” 

“Never!” shouted Uncle Danny. 

“Shades of Darwin!” came from Aunt Serena. 
“Here I’ve been bothering my head for years over 
this thing of evolution and now I have it all cleared 
up right before my eyes. Enter the alembic of 
Uncle Danny a Doctor of Philosophy, then shake 
well before using, and out pops a lover and our well- 
beloved Mary Benton hugs Nick and cries.” 

“Uncle Danny,” Robert asked, “is this an execu- 
tive session?” 

“The symptoms are becoming quite favorable to 
say the least. A few more confessions and we shall 
certainly be in the midst of an executive session.” 

“Folks,” said Will Benton, rising in his place — 


264 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“That’s the stuff, William,” cried George Cook. 
“Get it off your chest. Make a clean breast of it! 
Did you steal a horse or are you some young Loch- 
invar come out of the West — or both?” 

“Yes, out with it, Billy,” cried Tom. “You’ll feel 
better when you get rid of it.” 

“Just as soon as these infantile vaporings sub- 
side,” continued Will, “I’d like to tell you people, 
in the strictest confidence, that this young Smythe 
person, an hour ago, lured me out among the sylvan 
scenes hereabouts and told me brazenly that she is 
aiming, all in good time, to become Mrs. Will Ben- 
ton. Then I kissed her — by request.” 

“Morning paper!” shouted Tom rushing around 
the table. “Get your morning paper. Great sensa- 
tion ! Daylight osculation on the top of Sugar Loaf. 
Life and love among the clouds. Morning paper! 
Everybody up in the air. Secure your paper before 
the rush!” 

“Yes, Robert,” Uncle Danny interrupted, “this is 
an executive session, and one of great import and 
joy.” 

“Uncle Danny,” said Guinevere, “it was a good 
thing I took domestic science.” 

“So it was,” said Mrs. Smythe, “but just think 
what an awful grueling and grilling it cost your 
poor mother. That man, Uncle Danny, sitting right 


THE PICNIC 


265 


there, manipulated the steam-roller in the most ex- 
pert fashion. Why, I ache every time I think of it.” 

“Yes, mother,” Guinevere responded, “but you 
lived happy ever after. And just think ! It gave me 
Will Benton.” 

“Is that all?” asked George. 

“All ?” she answered back. “All ? George Cook, 
you are a benighted heathen not to see what a won- 
derful opportunity I have to practise on Will my 
domestic science and other missionary theories. I 
think I have discovered in him the rudiments of a 
fairly useful man about the house and it shall be 
my mission in life to develop these to the utmost.” 

“Oh, fora life-preserver!” ejaculated Will. 

“Mrs. Smythe,” said Tom, “permit me to observe 
that I, too, have had experience with that self-same 
steam-roller.” 

“Shake, Tom! Here, too!” said Doctor Dunlevy. 

“Now, Uncle Danny,” said Aunt Serena, “what 
have you to say for yourself? Were all your efforts 
with that steam-roller as productive of good results 
as the victims, or beneficiaries, or patients whom I 
see about me? Did you ever fail?” 

“Yes,” said Uncle Danny sadly. “I failed once 
and dismally. But I have succeeded so often and 
well that I forget about the one failure in my great 
joy of the others.” 


266 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


“Uncle Danny,” Louise asked, “why don’t you 
ever bring your steam-roller out to the farm with 
you when you come?” 

“Why, bless you, child,” he replied, “I always 
have it with me but some one out there always pur- 
loins the spark-plug and then the thing won’t work. 
No,” he continued after a pause, “it is quite impos- 
sible to operate the steam-roller out there. You are 
all so busy and so happy in your work that you have 
no time for the foibles that call for steam-rolling. 
And when Aunt Serena is there each day is a bene- 
diction.” 

“Amen and Amen!” exclaimed Mrs. Cook. 

Then arose Homer Cook saying, with much feel- 
ing: 

“Friends, before we separate I fain would propose 
a toast to Uncle Danny and Nick. Two truer 
friends can not be conceived. Uncle Danny we all 
know and love. He has entered into the life of each 
member of this company in his own gentle way, until 
now he is a vital part of each one of us. He knows 
that our affection is his best reward for all he has 
been to us and done for us. I suspect, however, that 
we have thought of Nick as an incident, a negligible 
incident, perhaps. That is a mistake. Nick is a 
distinct entity, a heroic figure, if you will, in this 


THE PICNIC 


267 


great drama of life. If you will but consider for a 
moment you will realize that Nick typifies many of 
the fundamental things in life. He represents fidel- 
ity, constancy, perseverance, and affection without 
stint and to the end. If you would know what is 
meant by ‘faithful unto death’ you have but to en- 
visage Nick. Do you think that, if Uncle Danny 
were in danger, Nick would desert him because of 
cold, or hunger, or fire, or flood, or pain? Never! 
He would be faithful unto death and would stay to 
the end. Such is a faithful dog — such is Nick. I 
just now recall one stanza of a poem which I once 
read relating to a dog. 

T talk to him when Pm lonesome-like 
And I’m sure that he understands, 

When he looks at me so attentively 
And gently licks my hands! 

‘Then he rubs his nose on my tailored clothes, 

But I never say aught thereat, 

For the good Lord knows I can buy more clothes, 
But never a friend like that.’ 

Then here’s to Uncle Danny and Nick.” 

Nick went home that evening with a floral collar 
about his neck and as he and Uncle Danny trudged 


268 UNCLE DANNY’S NEIGHBORS 


homeward in the twilight, with Robert between 
them, the people along their way, men, women, and 
children, greeted them in cheery tones and smiled 
upon them. 


THE END 






















































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